Well Enough Alone
by Foibles and Fables
Summary: Lexie makes a request of Mark and accidently causes old wounds to burn fiercely. A take on what could happen in 5.14 and the implications that Addison's return could carry. Mark/Lexie, Mark/Addison undertones. No longer a one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

Simple gestures – a slight groan as she huddles against him, a gentle kiss pressed by him against her lips – make for their simple morning routine. Sunlight washes over them from the tiny crack in the curtains, illuminating their bodies twisted underneath the sheets of the paradoxically comfortable hotel bed.

Mark is, as always, the first one to untangle himself and rise up, leaving Lexie to doze for a few more blissful moments while he washes his face and brushes his teeth. This is what's happened every other morning for weeks now, the mornings after the nights when Lexie doesn't stay at Meredith's.

He returns from the bathroom, toweling off his face. Lexie is semi-awake and sitting up. One of her arms is extended in a luxurious stretch, and the other hand is sleepily rubbing at her half-lidded eyes. Mark chuckles under his breath. She's really a sight in the mornings; her hair is a mess, hanging in clumps in front of her eyes and tucked behind her ears.

She's dressed in Mark's jogging hoodie – I heart NY – and his green athletic shorts. She's basically swimming in the outfit. The sleeves of the ratty gray sweatshirt make her hands disappear completely and the shorts fall to well below her knees. Whatever makes her comfortable, he guesses. Besides, he likes to see her in his clothes. They look good on her, like somehow accentuating her innocence (she does kind of look like a little kid in the oversized apparel). It used to make him feel a bit creepy, but not so much anymore.

"Good morning," he says, smiling charmingly.

"Mm," she groans. "Good morning." The reply is half-yawned and lazy as she pulls herself to a sitting position, knees tucked into her chest. She can't help but wake totally when her bleary vision finally clears and she sees him standing there, wearing nothing but boxers. She blushes slightly, allowing herself to gaze at his body. It still hasn't been six weeks since _The Incident_ (they don't dare to address it at anything else, when they address it at all). Big Sloan still isn't running and definitely isn't ready to be up yet.

These "sleepovers" at Mark's hotel room are now just that, filled with actual sleeping and crappy movies and room service popcorn. Not since high school – or, in Mark's case, well before – has the term carried this nonsexual definition. Neither of them really minds, though. Lexie doesn't want to cause another penile fracture, and Mark has slowly discovered that it's nice to sleep with someone instead of _sleeping_ with them.

But, even if she can't have or touch, she can still look.

Mark can tell that she's checking him out in all of his scantily-clad glory (the detection ability comes with experience), her dark eyes on fire with admiration. So, he grins and throws the towel at her, earning a sufficient yelp of surprise.

"You," she says smugly, chucking it back at him and missing wide right, "are a jerk."

"And you," he replies over his shoulder, pulling clothes out of his drawer, "are going to be late for rounds. You'd better hurry up and get out of here." That steamy smile crosses his lips as he points at the lock. She follows his gesture and groans exaggeratedly, pulling the pillow from behind her and burying her face in it.

After a moment, she sighs. "Oh well." She shrugs, pulling her hair into a haphazard bun. She always turns out to be late after their sleepovers. "I'll be a few minutes behind."

Mark scoffs, not buying it. He's quickly learned what a total perfectionist she is. He says nothing. She yawns widely again, smiling sleepily as she clutches her pillow to her chest. "Besides," she continues, "There's something I kind of wanted to talk to you about." The words come out suddenly hesitant and sheepish. "And it's important, at least it is to me, so I'd like you to really listen, okay?" She bites her lower lip, eyes instantly going into puppy-dog mode.

_Damn, again with the cute_, Mark thinks, knowing that the next words out of her mouth might start a conversation that he doesn't want to have.

"Go ahead," he tells her distractedly, stepping into a pair of jeans and pulling them up.

"Okay. Um." She swallows, concentrating very hard on choosing the right words. "I'd really like us to go public about this. About us," she explains, adding the last part hurriedly. "I mean, I know you have your reservations about this. And for good reason, bros before hoes, I know." She laughs lamely at her own joke: a very awkward defense mechanism. She clears her throat to get focused again. "But, even though a couple people already know, I sometimes feel like…like your dirty little secret or something." She takes a deep, shuddering breath, having used a lot of courage and sincerity too early in the morning.

Not bothering to butting or zip his pants, Mark sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, looking sympathetically into Lexie's entreating eyes. "I'm sorry you feel like that, Lex." She fights back a smile at the nickname. She loves the way he says it. "I don't mean to make it come across like that. What we have going here is a good thing-"

_A wonderful thing_, a quiet but stubborn voice in the back of his mind adds.

"-but I just can't come clean about it. Not yet, at least. I can't tell Derek yet."

"But do you really think he'll care _that_ much?" She narrows her eyes, looking at him hopefully. "Just because he's dating my half-sister doesn't give him the right to say who I can and can't have a relationship with. You and I…we're both adults and everything, and everything we've done has been, um, _consensual_." She cringes at how bad that just sounded.

"But that's the thing," Mark half-exclaims, the words filled with exasperation. Not at her, but at his whole situation in general. "It's not even about you anymore. It's about his ability to trust me. He specifically told me not to go after you, and what did I do? I went after you." He pauses, thinking about this for a second. "Well, technically, you seduced me with your striptease and semi-dirty talk, but that's beside the point." He can't help but smirk a second before reverting to seriousness. "The point is that I deliberately betrayed him. I went against his wishes and got involved with you."

Lexie moves closer to him, touching his shoulder gently. "It would be better if he heard it straight from you rather than finding out on his own," she offers. "I'm sure he'll forgive you."

Mark rolls his eyes and snorts at the hilarity of her statement. "Yeah, he'll forgive me. _Eventually_," he sneers. "I don't know if I can take another _eventually_ after last time."

This time it's her turn to scoff. "If he could forgive you for sleeping with his wife, he can forgive you for sleeping with me." She gasps and clasps her hand firmly to her mouth, eyes instantly widening. That was meant for her mind, not her mouth. Mark's head whips around to stare at her incredulously, mouth slightly agape, bewildered that she would say something like that. "Um, uh, it's kind of common knowledge around the hospital, sorry," she stammers squeakily, the apology muffled by her hand.

He shakes his head at her, brown furrowing. "You don't even know the half of it," he says gravely, locking eyes with her. She shrinks a bit wincing, and part of him wishes that the words hadn't come out so harshly. But only a part.

But Lexie couldn't have picked a worse time to bring this up, to drag out these skeletons. She's reminded him of why today, which was off to a great start, just plain sucks. Today sucks because Addison Montgomery just can't leave well enough alone. She just has to come back just when he's managing to find real happiness with another woman. Sure, she's only coming because of her sick brother (who is still a prick), but definitely will still be torture.

Mark exhales harshly through his nostrils, turning away form Lexie, burying his face in his hands. He's almost sickened for an instant when he considers that she might have already arrived at Seattle Grace Hospital. She might be walking the halls and maybe, by some incredibly cruel twist of fate, she might be standing in the exact spot on those stairs where, almost a year ago, he forced himself to let her go at the cost of a great part of his own heart.

Lexie kneels behind him on the mattress and wraps her arms around his bare waist from behind, in another hair-stroking-esque comforting gesture. Mark doesn't know what to do, either to pull away or to lean into her. She rests her cheek on the back of his neck, and his skin is hot with stress. She's heartbroken to see what she's caused. This is new. She's never seen him like this.

"Mark, I'm so sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean anything, I was just…" The sentence dies prematurely on her lips. "You can talk to me if you want. But only if you want. I'll understand if you don't." She holds him firmly, doing her best to transmit support, like her mother used to for her.

Mark laughs bitterly, running his hands through his hair before returning them to his face. He can't get past Addison. He'll always care for Addison. That can never and will never change. But things also can never and will never go back to the way they used to be.

He really wants to tell Lexie this. He can't keep it hidden for much longer if he wants this relationship to become something more, for it to really mean something. He feels like there's something in her that he can trust with this information.

"If I tell you this," he murmurs cautiously, "you have to promise that you won't run for the hills. You have to promise that you won't because that's the last thing I need." This is the most he's bared his soul in a long time.

Lexie is slightly discomforted by this, but she has to do it. He feels her nod against his neck, hears her whisper, "I promise."

He braces himself against all of those terrible feelings in the pit of his stomach as he speaks, each word clear and distinct.

"I loved her."


	2. Not Today

**Due to popular demand, this will no longer be a one-shot as was my original intention. Instead, it will continue throughout the entire crossover event. It will be based loosely on what we see on-screen, with some changes and additions to scenes, maybe for a different spin on things.**

**For the purposes of this story, Mark already knows that Addison is coming back (apparent from chapter one) as well as Derek and presumably the Chief. Nobody else is aware yet, however.**

**This chapter is mainly to get the timeline of this story back on track, since the first was written before 5.14. It's a bit dry and narrative-ish or a while.**

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

**------------**

The streetlamps are distorted blurs in the too-bright morning sun as Lexie whizzes past them, going much faster than twelve over the speed limit. She passes the sedan in front of her, swearing through clenched teeth as she looks at the digital clock display. Rounds start in five minutes, and she's still about eight away.

She cranks up the radio, blasting a happy pop song. Anything to take her mind away from the sadness she was suddenly carrying.

It wasn't that he said he loved Addison. Of course, it had bothered her a little bit, but it was completely plausible that he had fallen out of it. It happens all the time, she tells herself. She had loved George, right? Okay, bad example. Still, she had reason to believe that his use of the past tense meant it really was the past.

"I loved her," he had said, quiet but as clear as crystal, struggling from the inside out. After that, silence. She knew he wouldn't say anything more. So, slightly dazed and freaked out by the confession, she held him wordlessly until she absolutely had to leave.

"This isn't me running away," she had explained breathlessly, throwing on whatever clothes she happened to grab. "I promised you that." Still frozen on the bed, shell-shocked, head in his hands, he nodded.

Stepping out the door, she said, "I guess I'll see you at the hospital, then?" She looked at him. Nothing. He didn't move a muscle. So, with her stomach churning, she turned and left.

And now she's driving dangerously fast to work, about the encounter the wrath of Cristina Yang. But that's the last thing on her mind right now. She groans and rests her head on the steering wheel as she hits her seventh red light. Stopping only gives her mind more time to dwell on it. She can't stop thinking about it. She'd never seen anything like it before.

As a surgeon, she's had to give bad news to both patients and families. Even though she generally connects well with her patients and can really feel for them, their pain is never exactly her own. She's not as close to her patients as she is to Mark Sloan.

The only other person in this category who has had some kind of total anguish is her father. The grief from her mother's death has turned him into a completely different man, completely unrecognizable to her. This is also nothing like she saw this morning. Mark didn't turn into somebody different. He was every bit as much _him_ as he ever was, just…broken. He was the picture of a broken man in a moment of weakness. Something about it being _him_ and not just some empty shell of him pierced Lexie to the core.

But, as she _finally_ pulls into Seattle Grace Hospital's parking lot only a few minutes late, she decides she's happy he confided in her. Maybe it's a sign that the thing between them was more than sex with only one or two strings attached. Maybe it's something much, much bigger than that.

This thought on the forefront of her mind, she hurries across the asphalt to the entrance. As long as he wants her to be there and to help, she will.

-------------

Some time later, Mark steps out of the hospital elevator and onto the surgical floor. He begins walking, shoulders hunched and collar turned up, to the nurses' station. He glides quickly over the tiled floor, avoiding the gazes of all who pass him. It's just that kind of day, and it's bound to get much worse very soon.

He reaches the counter just as Derek does. Derek looks up from the chart he's been scribbling on, eyes just a little bit brighter than normal. Mark's blood boils for an instant. There's nothing someone having a bad day likes to see more than someone having a good day.

"_Good_ morning," Derek almost singsongs, holding back a smile. Mark grunts a reply, shooting furtive looks ever both shoulders and down the hallways on either side of him. Derek's quick to notice and decode this. He clears his throat, setting the chart down. "If you're looking out for Addison, she's not here. She won't be until tomorrow," he explains, raising his eyebrows at his friend.

"What? Really?" Mark's both bewildered and guilty that that single sentence just liberated him of so much dread and anxiety. He's ashamed of his relief. "But I thought Archer-"

"They needed to take a new CT scan. It's not a glioma. Apparently, it's neurocysticercosis."

Mark's jaw drops. "He's got parasitic cysts in his brain?" Derek nods gravely, and Mark cringes. There are certain things a doctor never becomes less sensitive to.

"And it doesn't look good either." Derek shakes his head. "They're waiting on a report from some doctors in New York, and Addison said they should arrive here early tomorrow." Mark sighs deeply, the glimmer of hope ignited by Derek's first statement extinguished by this one.

But then, like magic, that suspicious and creepy light returns to Derek's ice-blue yes. "You know, she said a thing about babies," he said excitedly. "Like babies were a totally ordinary idea. She's not afraid, she's ready." The goofy grin explodes across his face again, pearly whites totally exposed. As for Mark, he's just giving Derek a dumbfounded look.

"…Addison?"

"No!" Derek rolls his eyes. "Meredith." It's now that Mark notices the black velveteen box in the front pocket of Derek's lab coat.

"Whoa!" he exclaims. "What's that?"

After sweeping the area for Meredith's presence, he shows Mark the beautiful diamond ring, holding it under his coat as if he was hiding a gun or peddling fake Rolexes. "It's my mom's…for Meredith," he says, eyes wide with wonder, like a kid on Christmas. "I'm giving it to her. Soon." Mark really smiles, now, his own misery overshadowed by happiness for his friend.

"When are you going to do it?"

"Do what?"

Derek snaps the box closed in fright as the Chief approaches him and Mark, leaning next to them on the counter. "Shepherd's proposing," Mark states slyly and proudly, like a tattletale first grader. Derek purses his lips and narrows his eyes at Mark, who only smirks in back at him.

"No kidding!" Richard cries, clapping Derek proudly on the shoulder. "_Outstanding_! How are you going to do it?"

"I don't know, just decided."

Owen hunt passes by, distracted, throwing a greeting in the three men's direction. "Shepherd's proposing," Mark says again, earning another look of contempt from Derek. Owen nods, wide-eyed.

"Congratulations, that's a big step."

Derek takes in a ragged breath. To Owen: "Thank you very much." To Mark, aside: "Are you just going to tell everyone?"

Mark waggles his finger at Derek. "You need advice. Hunt, you ever propose before?"

"Uh, sorry, I'm not the guy to ask. When are you going to do it?"

"Well, more importantly, _how_ am I going to do it?"

"Look, Derek," Mark says calmly, "I'll come over tonight and give you a hand. Trust me; I know what the ladies like." He grins lecherously, since it's what he'd do under any normal circumstance. But, he doesn't feel it this time.

"Fine," Derek gives in begrudgingly. "Just don't tell anyone else, okay?" He raises his dark eyebrows at Mark. "I thought I could trust you." Derek turns on his heel and starts down the hallway.

"Of course you can trust me!" Mark calls after him. Of course, he grimaces immediately. That statement is going to come back to bit him in the ass very soon.

----------------------------

Lexie steps into the chilly outdoors of the ambulance bay, pulling on a pair of gloves. Meredith is already there waiting for her, playing with one of the sleeves of her yellow trauma gown. Lexie double-steps, scurrying up to her. "Hey," Lexie greets smoothly (for once). She's not quite as jumpy around Meredith as she used to be. "I'm with you today."

"So, uh, what's going on with you and Mark Sloan?" she asks from out of the blue, feigning apathy but not quite hiding the suspicion. Lexie's heart jumps into her throat and her stomach drops. Her first reaction is denial, naturally.

"What? Nothing!" She feels words spill from her mouth without control. Talk about a regression. "What, no, why, why? What did you think is…was?" She looks down, becoming preoccupied with her gown in order to avoid eye contact. One corner of Meredith's mouth pulls upward, unconvinced, and she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"_Well_, because you've been on his service for over a week," Meredith points out in only a tiny bit less than an accusation. Lexie takes a deep breath and looks at her. She could tell Meredith right now about Mark and this weight would be off her chest. Why should she wait for Mark to tell Derek? With just a few words, the heavy feeling in her stomach could be taken away. She would feel worlds better; she's terrible with secrets.

Why would Meredith care, anyways? She has no right to tell Lexie who to date. Besides, she barely knew of Lexie's existence until a year ago, and didn't really start almost-caring until much more recently.

Lexie wants to tell her. She almost does. She gets the first word halfway out before her mind brings up an image of Mark's face from this morning, full of pain and guilt. Then, she sees the chain reaction that would occur if she let the secret free. Meredith would freak and tell Derek, sending him into a tirade against Mark. She can't do that to him.

Not today.

So, she makes another excuse.

"Yeah, you know, I'm…I'm really interested in plastics," she babbles. "As a specialty, ah, I'm fascinated." Meredith raises her eyebrows and nods, trying to keep up. "I…I like…f-faces," Lexie finishes lamely, forcing herself to smile.

"Mmhm." Meredith rolls her eyes, smirking as the ambulance backs up towards them.

Meredith knows something's up. It'll reveal itself in due time.

----------------

The day passes. Surgeries are stressful but successful. Some diagnoses are bad; Derek's pregnant patient in particular. But, at the end of the day, they all get to go home.

Or, in the case of Mark and Derek, basically fly home in order to decorate a bedroom with every ridiculous cliché in the book for Derek's "grand gesture" of a proposal. It's definitely better than a rowboat or skywriting.

"This is stupid," Derek declares, defeated and discouraged as he lights the thousandth candle. "It looks like Cupid puked in here. She's gonna hate this."

"What, the flowers?" Mark comments, glancing at the gardenia scattered about the room as he too lights another candle. His eyes linger for a second on the giant heart of rose petals on the bedspread. "Girls love this crap."

"It's cliché." He deadpans in an epiphany. "I'm a cliché. And did we _have_ to get the huge stuffed bear?" He exhales loudly in frustration and points at the toy at the end of the bed. "I mean, I think that kind of thing seems more well-suited for the other Grey, doesn't it?" Derek chuckles.

Mark coughs loudly, and he burns his fingers on the match he's holding, biting back some very vulgar words. Instead, he manages to let out a fake laugh. "Ha ha ha, yeah." A quick subject change. "Clichés became clichés for a reason," he enlightens. "Because they worked."

Suddenly, Lexie's request comes to his mind. He remembers her face when she told him she felt like a dirty little secret, the pout she wore. It did things to him; she makes him think like no woman has before. He wants to make her happy. There's nothing to stop him from telling Derek now. They're alone together, there's nobody to make a scene in front of. He can just tell him and get it over with, like ripping a Band-Aid off.

So, he starts to talk, dancing around the subject. "It's great, isn't it? When you feel so strongly for someone and it's not…not just about the sex? It is…" He pauses, searching for the correct word. "It's true." And he means it. He's close, now. He's close to fulfilling Lexie's request, and it feels good.

Derek stares at him for a long moment before laughing sarcastically. "You should not talk like that."

But now Mark sees how excited and nervous Derek is. He sees how much he's looking forward to tonight with Meredith. His heart sinks. He can't do this to Derek.

Not tonight.

"Yeah, you're right," Mark replies, turning away from him, a hint of sadness making its way into his voice. "Well, you're all set here, I'm gonna leave you to it." He sighs and heads to the door.

"Thanks," Derek replies, preoccupied with one of the rose bulbs. Mark stops in just before the hallway, looking at his best friend.

"Congratulations," he says, genuine and clear. Derek smiles back in appreciation.

But the moment is interrupted by a shrill ringing noise. Derek reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and answers it. "Hello?" His nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow. "Cristina?"

Mark watches as Derek carries out his conversation with Yang. "Oh." He sounds disappointed. "Well, okay. Yeah, I get it. It's for the best." He sighs deeply. "Thanks for the warning. I guess so. Bye." He disconnects the call and glances back at Mark, frowning.

"Uh-oh. What happened?"

"Apparently Cristina told Meredith something her mother had written in one of her diaries that might not make a proposal tonight a good idea." Derek shakes his head, trying to hide his dissatisfaction. "I guess I have to clean up."

"Do you want help?"

"No, I've got it." Derek smiles sadly. "Go ahead home." Mark turns to leave.

"Wait, Mark," Derek calls. Mark stops under the doorframe. "Tomorrow is going to be a hard day. For both of us." They lock eyes, and in that instant, the memories of the problematic past flow between them. "But it'll be okay. Trust me."

After a pause, Mark gives a single nod and departs, leaving Derek to sweep the petals off of the bed.

----------------------

It doesn't take Mark long to get back to the Archfield. He trudges up to his room, steps out of his shoes, and lies on the bed, not even bothering to turn the light on. He tries not to think about anything at all, but, of course, the first thing his mind takes him to is Lexie. He runs a hand through his hair, imagining how bad this morning was for her. It had seemed like she was avoiding him at the hospital. Come to think of it, she didn't even say one word to him. His insides go hollow. That would just be the icing on top of the crappy cake of the day.

As if on cue, someone knocks impatiently on the door. Mark slowly gets up to answer it, as if he is moving within a dream. He opens the door and she's standing there, her dark eyes looking up at him, locking with his.

Without a word, she embraces him and kisses him deeply. "I promised," she breathes as she breaks away and walks past him into the room. She picks up the clothes of his that happened to be closets – a collared shirt and cashmere pajama pants – and begins to undress. Mark can do nothing but watch her, entranced, amazed at how even after this morning, they're right back to where it all began.

None of his women ever truly stuck with him through the hard times.

Comfortable in his clothes, she takes him by the hand and pulls him to the bed. "Come on. Let's lay down," she murmurs soothingly. Mark complies readily, holding her close, suddenly comforted. She sighs contentedly, eyes drooping.

There are so many things Mark wants to say to her right now. There are even more that he needs to say. The most important makes its way out first.

"I almost told Derek today," he says, gingerly rubbing his hand on the small of her back. "I got so close. I really tried. But I just couldn't do it." He shakes his head. "Not now. But I promise you, I will." A tiny smile breaks across his lips as he looks at her. He can sense that he's about to cross over into Cliché-land himself, and he doesn't really care.

"I don't want to keep you a secret anymore, Lexie," he says. "I want to tell everyone. I want your friends and mine to know. Shit, I even think I want to shout it from the rooftops." Lexie laughs, her body shaking against his. The sound brings him relief and makes him happier than he's been all day.

"I'll do it as soon as I can," he vows. "Time isn't on our side, Lexie."

"I know." She inhales his scent, happy beyond belief that he's talking again. She feels like she needs to say something about what happened earlier, to clear the air. If there's anything she's learned in the past year, it's not to leave things unsaid.

"About this morning," she begins tentatively, gauging his reaction. He tenses a bit, but not much. Just having her there is like a drug. "I want you to know that what you said is perfectly okay. We all have a past. Like, when I was in third grade," she says, "I threw up in the middle of class. I had my first kiss at thirteen with a boy named Adam Garwood. And this one time…" Her voice drops to a whisper. "I broke a man's penis."

Mark lets out a real laugh, almost a guffaw. Lexie grins up at him. "And I'm going to be here for you, as long as you want me to be," she says, slow and steady, having practiced the speech on the car ride here. "I'm willing to listen to anything you want to tell me, not matter how terrified you think I'll be by it. Starting now."

The next words spill from Mark's mouth before he has a chance to stop them. It's like they were triggered by some kind of involuntary reaction. "Addison's coming to Seattle tomorrow. She needs Derek to operate on her brother."

She's a bit stunned, but, at the same time, not surprised. "Okay. That's…that's good. Thanks for telling me," she says. She's not used to this job.

Derek's words from earlier enter his mind. "_Tomorrow is going to be a hard day. For both of us._" A hard day for him and Lexie as well. Perhaps even a defining day.

For a few moments, they lie there, breathing together in the darkness and sharing in a moment of peace.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" Lexie asks gently and drowsily. "Like I said, completely ready to listen."

Mark is silent for a long while. Lexie figures he's let enough off his chest for today. She closes her eyes and rests against him, ready to succumb to the drowsy feelings.

Then, he speaks. "After Derek left for Seattle, we had a relationship. A real one." He falters for a moment. "She was pregnant. She was going to have my baby." The silence after seems to be a lot more silent than before, providing the obvious conclusion to his thought.

Lexie doesn't know what to say. But Mark seems to be just fine with that.

Thoughts dwelling somewhere on tomorrow, they eventually slip into a restless sleep.

--------

In what seems like minutes later, Lexie is awakened by a harsh rattling noise coming from across the bed. It takes more than a second for her sleep-muddled mind to realize that it's Mark's cell phone vibrating against the nightstand next to him. The sound only came once, so she decides it's a text message. She rubs her eyes and looks at the clock, which reads 4:48 A.M. It's actually been hours.

"Mark," she rasps. "Mark, your phone." He groans something unintelligible before delving back into sleep. Lexie rolls her eyes and reaches over him, trying not to lean on him too heavily, grabbing the phone from the table. She opens it to the keypad, eyes squinting and watering against the screen's bright light.

When she can finally see the letters, her heart feels like somebody squeezed it and her chest feels like a deflated balloon. She was right; it's a text message. And the name attached to it? Addison.

Against her better judgment, she opens the message. It's riddled with typos probably caused by nerves and preoccupation.

_On the way to SGH. derek is going to be ready for archers surgrey when we arirve. archer is in a coma now. not good. i hope i get to see you_

Lexie's stomach churns again.

Today is definitely not going to be easy.


	3. Facing It, Facing Off

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

Lexie wakes alone the next morning. No arms are wrapped around her and there is no warm body pressed to hers underneath the plush comforter. In fact, the spot next to her where he usually sleeps is cold, so he's been gone for a while.

Disheartened, she sighs and throws the covers off, groggily rubbing her eyes as she begins to get ready for the day. As she passes the small table against the wall, she notices a scrap of paper with a note scrawled on it.

_Went in early, couldn't sit still. My brain wouldn't let me relax. I'll see you hopefully when you get to work._

And then, scribbled as an afterthought, _Everything will be alright._

Lexie swallows hard, trying to suppress the heavy sensation in her stomach. She's nervous and feels ridiculous for it. Obviously, if Addison up and left, she really had to be finished with Mark. And besides, she's in Seattle for her brother. It's not like she's going to see him, confess her undying true love for him, and then yank him into the nearest empty room and ravish him, right?

Still, Lexie's mind plays that scary scene over and over again, and she shudders. She's terrified of it. She's lost too many good things lately. She doesn't need to lose one as good as this.

So, trying to ignore her anxiety and thoughts of doom, she dresses and heads to Seattle Grace.

--------------

Mark plants himself beside the nurses' station in full-on stealth mode, eyes scanning the bustling hallways for a shock of scarlet hair or the entourage of a V.I.P. Patient. So far, there's been nothing. The waiting was undeniably the worst part of this whole thing. It's given the dread time to grow.

But, he's ready. He's taken this whole morning to prepare himself to look Addison Montgomery in the eye again. The best revenge is living well, and he's damn well going to show her that he is.

Suddenly, Derek rushes past in a half-jog, pulling on his dark blue jacket and looking at his pager. The Chief follows in his wake, mirroring his actions.

"They're here," Derek announces to Mark as well as anybody else who was listening. "Are you coming?"

Crystal blues widening, Mark some of that preparation crumble to dust at Derek's confirmation of the arrival. So, like the coward he feels he's become, Mark makes up an excuse. "Um, I've got to check on a patient," he replies dumbly, picking up a random chart. Derek just nods, never breaking stride. Mark exhales sharply as soon as he's out of eye- and earshot.

It's official: the situation will be impossible to avoid now.

------------------------------

Lexie mixes into the group of interns crowding the hallway. Her peers are gathered there, waiting to be addressed by the Chief. She notices more murmuring than usual going on, some people pointing to their heads and grimacing.

"Morning, Chief! I heard there was a guy here with worms in his brain!" Ryan calls loudly, answering Lexie's unspoken question and drawing whispers of awe from the group.

The Chief tries to hold in a sigh. "Does anyone know the medical term for 'worms in the brain'?" The interns exchange confused glances, shrugging. A few turn to look at Lexie, and, for once, she's at a loss as well.

The Chief rolls his eyes in a way that was only an attempt at subtle. "Dr. Stevens requested you for a special project," he continues in a monotonous, disappointed tone before heading to the residents congregated across the hall. Izzie Stevens takes his place, grinning a bit too exuberantly. Her big blue eyes are almost manic.

"Okay, take an envelope and pass the rest back, but _do not_ open them. You're going to need them for the first game we're gonna play," she instructs brightly, tossing a stack of decorated envelopes into the group. Steve stares at her, blinking in disbelief.

"That's what we're doing today?" he asks. "Playing games?" She's unfazed by the question.

"Cheer up! We are going to have so much fun- _I said don't open the envelopes!_ Don't you know how to play a simple game?"

"I did when I was eight," Graciella replies defensively, quickly smoothing the corner down again.

Lexie stares blankly at the colorful and glittery envelope in her hands, some of the shin flecks already attaching to her scrubs and hands. A game day is dumb and completely unnecessary. But, if it got her and kept her away from the Addison situation, she was perfectly fine with it.

Game on.

----------------------------

Mark's been lingering outside of Archer Montgomery's ICU room for quite a while, pacing and wringing his hands. He should go in. He has to go in eventually. He creeps around the corner for what seems like the millionth time, only able to catch another fleeting glimpse of its occupants. From what he's gathered so far, he knows that Archer is in there (obviously) along with Addison. Meredith is sitting at the monitor, watching the EKG. The first time he caught sight of her, Mark was pleasantly surprised to see Naomi sitting with Addison. He's missed her a lot; there had been a lot of good times between them in the past. She was one of the only old female friends he's had without any benefits whatsoever.

When he first arrived on the ICU floor, there was a lot of commotion inside the room. He didn't know what had happened, and was still clueless. The problem seemed to be temporarily resolved, though. In the midst of his spying, he heard Derek mention that Archer was conscious.

He should definitely go in. But he can't just walk in there for no reason whatsoever. He needs an excuse to go in and greet them and not look awkward.

He gets his excuse very quickly.

"_Our eyes met over the cadaver_," he hears Naomi singing, her voice quieted by the glass separating him from them. "_And I knew I had to have her…_" Her song deteriorated into giggles. "What was the next line?"

Archer, in a slightly medicated state, fills in the next phrase in a shaky bass. "_Have his mitral valves grown too thick?"_ Naomi nodded, beaming, remembering immediately.

"_Is that what made our cadaver so sick?"_ More laugher, this time from everyone; except Meredith, she's doing her best to fade into the wallpaper.

Mark shakes his head, taking a deep breath, getting ready for the plunge. It's now or never. His feet carry him one in front of the other to the door. Before he knows it, he's sliding the door open, stepping inside, and speaking.

"Greatest love song of all time!" He strides to Archer's bed more confidently than he ever expected to, despite the fake smile plastered to his face. A sound of cheerful greeting comes from Naomi and he smiles back at her, placing a hand on Archer's shoulder. He was never really the guy's biggest fan, but he figures it's a nice gesture when the man has _worms_ in his brain. "Did you get to the part when Derek rhymes 'gross anatomy class' with 'Addison's fine ass'? Because I wrote that line," he states, on a roll. He still won't allow himself to look at Addison yet, however. That would be too much, too soon.

Then, he remembers the other woman in the room and halts his sentence right there. "Oh. My bad." He shoots a sympathetic look at Meredith, who's wearing an expression that's a very bad cover-up for horror.

"No, no, it's fine," she replies with a smile just as forced as his. "I, uh, I think it sounds like a fine song." She occupies herself with the computer again, conveniently removing herself from the conversation and assuming her desired position as a piece of furniture. Mark nods at her with an understanding smirk before returning to Archer. He looks wan in his bed, skin the color of his pale hair, nothing like the brazen asshole Mark once knew.

"Archie, heard you were going to let Derek remove those little suckers from your brain."

"Um, maybe," Archer answers, looking up at the ceiling. For the first time since Mark entered the room, Addison spoke by herself.

"He is," she affirms in her dulcet alto, the voice that had addressed Mark and called out his name countless times before. But, the sound of her voice doesn't bring back a flood of bad memories and pain like Mark thought it would. It carries with it nothing more than a dull, vacant throb in his chest, not anything like the daggers Mark was expecting.

Archer pouts almost like a small child, rolling his eyes at Addison. "I hate surgery, especially brain surgery," he says, sounding like he's told her this too many times to count.

"Yeah, being a neurologist, you probably see a lot of patients post-op who are just like, you know, scrambled eggs?" He can't resist getting one good shot in at Archer, not thinking before he speaks. Addison answers immediately, voice exasperated in that way he's so familiar with.

"You know what, Mark? You're not helping right now." He finally makes himself look at her, meeting her glare. She looks so different, but, all at once, the same. Her eyes are still the same shape and color, although there are the beginnings of some dark bags underneath them and a faint scarlet stain at their rims. She's still dressed impeccably well – skirt and a blazer, full jewelry - even though this outfit looks slightly wrinkled with wear. She still looks exactly the same when she's annoyed, clear blue eyes fiery and hands working as fast as her mouth. The only real difference is her hair; it gets darker and shorter with her every visit. Her skin is a bit bronzer from the Los Angeles sun.

Once again, Mark was expecting the shock of looking at her once again to hurt beyond belief. He thought it was going to destroy him inside. But, it simply doesn't. Of course, there are phantom pains. But, they're nothing like they could be.

It's about now that he realizes that he just might be able to do this. His heart leaps.

"We're sitting here trying to convince him that surgery is-"

"Is not an option," Derek says softly, coming into the room with Archer's films in hand. "According to these scans, the single cyst that you had in your last CT has now multiplied by eight, all clogging the third ventricle." He frowns. "There's no way I can surgically navigate through a mess like that without rupturing one."

The news casts a pall over the room, silence and solemnity falling over them as they looked gravely at Derek.

"So what does that mean?" Addison finally asks, raising her manicured eyebrows at him. Derek swallows and averts his eyes, hoping that the gesture will be able to answer her sufficiently. He can't bring himself to say the words in front of his old friends. The rest follow suit. Addison's lip trembles and she shakes her head.

"You're in a room full of doctors, Addison, who are all being very quiet right now." Archer grips her hand, looking her straight in the eyes with his gray ones. "I'm gonna die. That's what it means."

Mark watches as Addison's face contorts and she looks away.

---------------------------------------

Later on, Lexie speeds through the hallway in search of none other than Mark. She was the first to drape her "patient" correctly for a laparoscopic colisistectomy and is now on her way to the second challenge.

Her heart skips a beat as she sees him standing at the registration counter. She hurries up behind him, reading her card quickly for him in one breath. "Find Dr. Sloan, he's your patient, ask him his symptoms, diagnose him correctly to receive your next challenge, what are your symptoms?" She looks up at him, eyes wide, anxious for his reaction.

He turns slowly, expression unreadable. Fear grips her. This could be a bad thing. His eyes bore holes in her as he begins. "Well, right now, I'm battling a rapid heart rate and I'm also feeling a little flushed." He flashes a typical smirk, unmarred by sadness or pain. This? Good thing. "I don't even wanna mention what's going on below the belt." His smile widens and he pushes his hands into his labcoat pockets. He moves well into her personal space, eyes smoldering down at her. Her breath hitches at their close proximity.

"So, um, everything's okay?" she asks in a whisper, hoping beyond hope that the answer would be a positive.

As he looks at her, at her expectant eyes, a feeling comes over him. It's in his heart, a throbbing. But it's nothing like the kind Addison had given him not very long ago. This one was warming, comforting. His teeth break out from behind his lips. He knows how to answer her.

"Yes." He nods, and she lets out a breath of air that she didn't even know she had been holding in. "Everything is definitely okay." She smiles back, release flooding over her for a second before she regains her focus. This intern game might have been a dumb idea, but she's in it to win it now.

"Um, could you please tell me your real symptoms?" Mark shakes his head and backs away, pulling an index card out of his pocket.

"Tachycardia, angiodema, hypotension," he lists, "severe chest and abdominal pain, difficulty breathing, throat clo-"

"Anaphylactic shock!" she shouts excitedly, throwing her arms into the air. Mark, surprised, lets out a single laugh and nods. Lexie hisses a "yes" and then scurries off with her next challenge in hand.

Two good things have happened so far today for Lexie. Mark's world (and, by extension, a part of her own) hasn't ended, and she's far in the lead.

---------------------------------

Thanks to Addison's pleading, Derek's ingenuity, and the intervention of God (and the much unexpected Sam Bennett), a procedure was found that could work for Archer's case. He actually agreed to go under the knife, and the surgery was promptly scheduled and commenced. Mark had wandered into the gallery a few moments into it, taking a seat with Sam and Bailey. Addison was in no condition to do anything but stare down at her brother and her ex-husband.

Eventually, he makes his way to the front row beside Callie, watching with rapt attention as Derek and Meredith work inside of Archer's brain.

"Okay," Addison announces nervously, sitting down on Callie's other side. Her voice is shaking. "I need to be distracted. Someone, talk about something other than what's going on with my brother right now," she says in not so much a plea, but a command.

Callie knits her eyebrows, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Uh, Mark is good at talking about himself." Mark slowly turns to face Callie, narrowing his eyes, obviously seeing where this is going. Addison watches at him, waiting, eyes frantic and lines setting in her forehead. He sighs, thinking of what to say.

"Actually, I've been using endoscopy for head and neck cancer resections." Addison nods out of either obligation or distraction. "If I can just focus the criteria for patients, I might have a breakthrough on my hands." He tilts his head at her before looking out the window again. He still feels just the tiniest burn.

Addison stares at him, incredulous. "What happened to you?" Mark doesn't look back. Callie rolls her eyes.

"He met someone," she explains coyly. Mark clenches his jaw, stomach tightening. He'd have to talk with Callie later. He's not sure if it registers with Addison, he doesn't look; he merely hears her sigh before she becomes wrapped up in her brother again.

After that, the surgery takes a turn for the worst. But, like the god Addison told him to be, Derek manages to pull it off. For everyone in the gallery, the last moment of the procedure is nothing less than a miracle.

------------------------------

There's a line of medical tape stretched across the archway of the hall. It's clear tape, but all three can see it as clear as day.

They're sprinting, pushing against the fatigue and the feeling that their lungs are going to explode like balloons. They're so close that they can taste it, they can feel the prize in their hands. Karev, Stevens, and even the Chief are screaming at them to hurry, encouraging them to kick and punch and bite if they have to. Not like they need to be instructed to.

Lexie fixes her brow in determination, pumping her arms and pushing her feet against the tile as fast and hard as they can go. She's got to win this.

They break through the tape, almost running into the opposite wall with their unstoppable motion. "George!" Izzie yells, calling for an official judgment.

"Three-way tie!" he announces. The interns are hunched over, gasping for breath like fish out of water.

"Final patient diagnosis!"

"Motion sickness!" Steve yells frantically.

"No!"

"Fungi fever!" Ryan nods.

"No!"

"_Neurocysticercosis!_" Lexie wheezes, basically spitting out the word. Izzie cheers loudly, jumping up and down and clapping her hands theatrically.

"We have a winner!"

At the sound of those words, Lexie whoops loudly and gives Ryan a triumphant "_Ha!_"

"Nicely done!" Izzie congratulates her, placing a blue ribbon around her neck. She laughs gleefully and pushes both of her friends before remembering the other part of her victory.

"Wait, what's the prize?" she asks, suddenly serious.

"You get to scrub in on Shepherd's craniotomy, you get to hold the Doomsday Sucker," Dr. Weber replies.

Lexie has no idea what the Doomsday Sucker is, but it sounds like a big deal. So, she taunts Steve and Ryan some more.

-------------

He sees her standing there, smiling dreamily at the arts-and-crafts medal around her neck. It's incredibly adorable that she prides herself like this, so he smiles right with her. "Dr. Grey," he greets, swaggering over to her with his hands in his pockets. She looks up at him, still grinning. "It would appear that congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, Dr. Sloan," she says properly, nodding.

"I'd also like it acknowledged that I offer these congratulations professionally and respectfully, without any innuendo or inappropriate body language." He smirks, and she blushes, the corners of her own mouth drifting to her ears. He's him. He's not damaged. She recognizes this man.

"Acknowledged, Dr. Sloan."

"I'm heading to Joe's. You know, to celebrate with my old friends," he tells her. She's a bit disappointed, but it passes after a second. She tells herself again that he has a past.

Then, a thought occurs to her. She leans in, whispering. "Um, do you know…what's a Doomsday Sucker?" He laughs, moving closer to her.

Addison had been watching them from across the way, a phone pressed to her ear long after the call was disconnected. She had recognized the look in his eyes, the look of a predator coming over its prey. She couldn't have known any better. The information disclosed by Callie earlier is coming to light. Therefore, she must investigate.

She marches to the two of them as confidently as one can after nearly losing a brother in surgery. Once she reaches them, she shoves her hand at Lexie. "Addison Montgomery," she says, giving a sickly sweet smile.

Lexie freezes, eyes huge, finally and unfortunately seeing Addison Montgomery for the first time. She's nothing short of spectacular. Everything about her is amazing: her looks, her clothes, her attitude, the way she carries herself. She shrinks away, insecurity passing through her. Why in the hell would Mark go from Addison to _her_?

"Uh, Lexie Grey," she sputters, shaking Addison's hand quickly and trying her best to smile. Addison's mouth falls open, but she recovers quickly. She should have seen this coming. The _other_ Grey sister.

"Addie! Little Grey," Derek greets as he walks up to them. "I'm going to have to meet you at Joe's in a bit, I have a craniotomy. Little Grey, I hear you're going to be holding the Doomsday Sucker."

"Now?!"

"Yes, now. O.R. 2." Derek laughs at her enthusiasm as she gives a "yes sir" and scampers away.

Addison raises her eyebrows at Mark, and he knows that this won't be good. "I can't believe it," she says accusingly, placing a hand on her hip. He's got to think of a way to stop it. "Little Grey and-"

The words flow from his mouth before he can stop them. "Did you hear Derek is going to propose to Meredith? How about that?" He smiles nervously, drumming his fingers on the table. Derek frowns at him before just walking away.

Addison locks eyes with Mark, haughty disapproval written all over her face. He looks back at her, eyes imploring and vaguely apologetic. It's a standoff, glare against cringe.

But, inside, she feels only hurt. Meredith and Derek are getting engaged. Mark's apparently screwing an eight-year-old. He's moved on. Her old friends, they've all moved on.

They're running toward the future. She's at a standstill.


	4. Something There To Remind Me

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

Aside from Joe's with Mark or Disneyland, there's no place Lexie Grey would rather be right now. It's a rush of adrenaline, pure exhilaration as she stands at Dr. Shepherd's right side, wielding the Doomsday Sucker: a shiny silver instrument that definitely seems to be all it's cracked up to be.

The encounter with Addison is all but pushed form her mind while she watches, awestruck, as Derek works through Jen's brain, gazing cautiously through his spectacles. He glances at her, smiling under his mask. "Sucker at the ready?" he asks.

"Sucker's at the ready," she replies breathlessly, eyes never leaving the woman's exposed cranium. On Derek's other side, Alex snorts at her phrase. Dr. Shepherd chuckles as well.

"You're mocking me," Lexie states in disbelief, eyes widening at the unprofessional behavior.

Derek shakes his head, smirking warmly. "Only a little." Suddenly, he freezes, his hand having slipped just a tiny bit and nicked the aneurysm. "Dammit." He throws aside his instruments. "_Dammit!_" he swears again. The steady beeping of the monitors begins to come more rapidly. Lexie looks at Derek, bewildered.

"What, what happened?"

"B.P.'s eighty-eight over sixty," Alex states flatly. Derek sighs exasperatedly.

"Hang two units of blood," he instructs one of the nurses. "Okay, all joking aside, Dr. Grey, bring in the Doomsday Sucker." Lexie's stomach rolls with sudden nerves and excitement.

"O-okay," she stammers, voice wavering.

"Right in here, get in there," Derek commands urgently, guiding her to the source of the bleeding. Her breath stops as she holds the Doomsday Sucker there, the noise of the blood being suctioned off ringing in her ears. She can't feel her body. It's like the only parts of her are her eyes, her heart, and her right hand.

"Oh my God, wow," she babbles, dark eyes huge, "Oh wow…"

"Temporary clips," Derek says aside, moving quickly to retrieve the instruments. "Microsutures, please." He repairs the damage the best he can, eyes and hands skillfully working together.

Alex's eyes fix on the heart monitor. "B.P.'s one-ten over seventy-two." The wailing of the monitor slows to a regular pace once again.

"Alright, get the sucker out of there." Lexie complies immediately.

"Is that it? Did…did you get it?"

Derek studies the repair job closely. "There's good flow," he finally replies, letting out a breath of relief. "Yes, we did." Lexie's eyes close, offering a silent thank you to nobody in particular. "And that will teach me never to mock another young intern again."

The craniotomy continues without any more problems. Lexie clutches the Doomsday Sucker like her life depends on it.

------------------------------

Mark follows Addison across the parking lot to Joe's, calling after her, his breath making clouds in the chilly air. "Come on, Addison!" he yells from a few lengths behind as she reaches the door.

She spins to face him, wearing the same expression of dissatisfaction as she had before she hurried wordlessly out of the hospital, leaving him to chase after her. "You're _such_ an ass," she says, shaking her head at him before pushing her way inside of the bar. Mark swears under his breath. Frankly, he has to agree with her. Still, divulging Derek's not-so-secret-anymore plan to her was done mostly in self-defense. There was only a tiny hint of vindictiveness when he had said it.

He steps across the threshold into the Emerald City Bar, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and polished wood hitting his nose. Joe promised to keep the place open at this very late hour just for them; Sam and Naomi are already at the bar, celebratory drinks in hand. Addison is just sitting down at one of the tables, groaning and stretching and running her fingers through her hair. Mark cautiously takes the seat across from her, folding his arms across his chest.

"I shouldn't have blurted," he half-apologizes like a child being berated by his parents. Addison rolls her eyes and rests her hands on top of her head, leaning back and inhaling.

"Yeah, a little warning would have been nice," she mumbles. Mark is about to ask her if she's okay, but then remembers that she never asked him if he was okay. He stops himself short. "People get divorced," she sighs, "they meet new people, they remarry. It's normal." She says it to reassure herself more than to inform him. Mark raises an eyebrow at her.

"But you sorta wished it'd been you first." He can't resist that one either.

"Oh, shut it." Blue eyes narrow at him, the harsh gesture in contrast with the smirk crossing her face. "So, what, are you going to tell Derek about the…" She purses her lips in thought. "Okay, wait, we call Meredith a twelve-year-old, so what do we call Lexie?" She almost laughs out loud, more bitterly than humorous. "A pre-schooler?" She's got a few cracks of her own to make.

Mark deadpans, biting his tongue behind his lips as his eyes become hard as steel. Anger wells in his chest, and he's in disbelief that she just said that. Addison has no right to judge Lexie, because for one, she just met her, and two, Addison was the one that wanted out of their relationship.

"A woman," Mark presses, trying not to sound too defensive. This time, Addison really does laugh out loud, shrugging her shoulders and tossing her hands into the air.

"Oh, okay," she replies sarcastically. Mark can feel the hostility in her tone.

"And I'm gonna tell him," he continues. Addison rolls her eyes for the thousandth time. "I'm working on it." Her glare hits him for barely a second more before the bells on the door jingle. "There he is!" Mark exclaims as Derek steps inside, shouldered against the cold. Addison immediately brightens as everyone stands to applaud and cheer the man who saved their friend and brother.

"Now there's a welcome I deserve!" Derek beams, opening his arms to Addison as she embraces him. Mark stands and heads for Sam and Naomi.

"Joe! A scotch for the neuro-god."

"Coming right up!"

Mark nods to his friends as he leans both elbows on the bar, a grin breaking its way across his face, reaching his eyes. "We're serenading them with the marriage song," he mutters. "On my mark." Sam nods conspiratorially and Naomi giggles. Mark doesn't agree with and usually wouldn't give into these vengeful. But, Addison's insulting of Lexie was uncalled for. It cut him to the quick.

He watches carefully as Addison and Derek break away from one another and then sit back down. "Now," he whispers. Chuckling, the three stroll nonchalantly to the table. Naomi clears her throat, getting their attention, and they begin to sing in unison.

"_Had his mitral valve gotten to thick?_"

"Shut up." Derek sinks back into his chair, embarrassed.

"Oh, God." This is the last thing Addison needs right now: more reminders of the things that had been left behind.

"_Is that what made the cadaver so sick?_"

"We can't remember the chorus!" Naomi exclaims. Derek closes his eyes. "Come on, tell us!"

"No."

"Her name starts the chorus," Sam states, brow furrowed, pulling it from his memory. Addison takes a swig from her drink and a deep breath, trying to make herself seem as cheerful about the whole thing as possible.

"_Addison Montgomery, I met her in the summer-y_," she croons, complete with hand motions. Sam laughs heartily, and Derek can't help but join.

"No, no. I'd never use summer-y as a noun," he corrects. "It was 'I met her in the summer, she'." Everyone lets out noises of recollection. Naomi nods, remembering it from there.

"_She was cutting up a very dead body!_"

"This is why I didn't stay in touch."

"_But in her eyes I saw my life…_"

"_I knew that she would be my wife, she would breathe the life back into me, now and every day until eternity!_"

An awkward silence, now, just as Mark had predicted. He holds back a look of smug satisfaction. After a moment, Sam clears his throat for the final line of the song.

"_Or until we were as dead as that body_." They crack up at the low notes. They can't help it. Derek clinks glasses with Sam, smiling, accepting defeat.

The drinking commences full-force, despite the odd hour.

---------------------

Meanwhile, Lexie is just arriving back at the Archfield. She rummages in her purse for the card key that Mark had given her a week ago. She knows that he's not going to be back for a while. Just as her fingers fall upon the smooth edge of the key, her cell phone vibrates in a distinct pattern. Voicemail. She quickly unlocks and enters the room, dropping her things on the floor and stepping out of her shoes as she dials the message retrieval number.

"_Hey, it's me._" It's from Mark. His voice is somewhere between sober and drunk, not completely far gone. There's a Naked Eyes song playing somewhere in the distant background. _"I'm calling you from the bathroom, which sounds creepy but definitely isn't. Don't wait up for me. It's gonna be a long night. I'll talk to you later._"

Lexie hangs up and flops down in the middle of the bed. For a moment, she considers going back to Meredith's to spend the night. This way, nobody would be suspicious. But, it dawns on her that everyone who lives at the Frat House (as it had been dubbed) was probably still at work too. Besides, she was tired. There's a perfectly comfortable king-sized bed right here.

She knows there's nothing to worry about, with Mark at the bar. Even though Addison is there. And all of his old friends. And excessive amounts of alcohol. She trusts him, though. She believed him when he had told her that everything was okay.

She manages to fall asleep swiftly, exhausted from the competition and the high of surgery. And from using the Doomsday Sucker. It took a lot out of her.

---------------------

The tables and had been cleared from the floor quite a while ago. The jukebox was blaring a peppy eighties song. Drinks had been filled and refilled. Addison, Naomi, and Sam were dancing, snapping their fingers and smiling and clapping along to the song. Mark sits on a barstool, watching them, laughing and eating peanuts. Derek is the only party-pooper, sitting in a booth and talking on his cell phone.

Joe navigates through the dancers, shaking his head and chuckling at them. "You people realize what time it is, right?"

Addison answers a bit too loudly, her buzzed mind overcompensating over the sound of the music playing. "Stay awake for twenty hours…" She hops towards the bar, placing both palms on the surface and pushing herself up as if to leap over it completely. "And then you tell me if you know where the sun is in the sky!"

"It's hard to believe, the five of us together again," Sam comments, taking a long gulp out of his class.

"Six!" Naomi corrects. "Six, Archer makes six." Sam purses his lips and downs the last of his drink.

"And if you count the worms in Archer's brain," Mark chimes in, "that makes, like, twenty-six!"

Addison lifts her glass in a toast. "Here," she states, holding her drink high above her, "is to dead brain worms." They whoop and touch glasses, drinking happily to their friend's successful surgery before going back about their own business. Sam and Naomi return to the makeshift dance floor.

Addison places her hands on the bar on either side of Mark, effectively trapping him. He automatically backs away until he's pressed as close as possible against it as he can. It's a very uncomfortable position, and the sudden encroachment on his personal space makes his skin crawl. He wants nothing to do with this as she moves to eye-level with him, so close that he can feel her breath on his face and smell the booze on it.

"You're telling me that you fell for a Grey," she says in a mocking tone, sneering, "and you're too scared of _Derek_ to tell him about it." She tilts her head and widens her eyes as if to say, "come on, give me your best shot."

The sad thing is, in his discomfort and sudden seriousness, Mark thinks of exactly what to say. The final strike. The thing that will take her off of the subject of Lexie for good for now. "Don't be mad at me," he states nonchalantly, placing his hands in a defensive gesture. "Be mad at Derek. Be mad at the ring his mother never gave you, but don't be mad at me."

Her haze is suddenly cleared as a weight drops to Addison's stomach. Mark's lip quivers with satisfaction as her jaw drops and eyes go wild. "Wait, what ring?" Derek passes behind her, pocketing his phone, looking very grim. "Whoa whoa hey," she stops him, hand not holding her drink on her hip, "What's this about a ring? From your mother?"

Derek picks up his coat and briefcase, glaring daggers at Mark. "Thank you," he says bitingly. Mark shrugs.

"She'd have found out eventually."

Addison starts on a tirade, pointing her finger at Derek. "I knew it, I knew it! I knew that woman never liked me. You used to lie and tell me that she did, but I knew, where are you going?" she asks, suddenly sobered, noticing him putting on his coat in quite a hurry.

"I've gotta go back into work," he answers vaguely, already halfway to the door.

"Whoa, wait, is it Archer?" Naomi asks frantically, extremely concerned.

"No," Derek calls before leaving altogether without a backward glance.

"Guys, what if he's lying?" Naomi says quietly, gesturing to the door. "What if it is about Archer and he doesn't want all of us running over there in a panic?"

They exchange apprehensive glances for a mere second before collectively abandoning their drinks and nuts and hurrying for the exit.


	5. Shin Kicking

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

**A/N: A direct continuation of the last chapter.**

They barge into Archer's room, taking Dr. Bailey by surprise. She puts her pen down and shakes her head, already catching a whiff alcohol. "Is he alright?" Naomi asks, fluidly moving to his bedside. Archer's eyes are closed, dozing, mouth hanging slightly open as he breathes.

"Shh, let the man rest," Bailey tells them. She knows from experience that Addison Montgomery and drinking can combine to create something bad (and hilarious at the same time). She can only assume that her friends are no different.

"Where's Derek?" Addison questions.

"I don't know," Bailey says, slightly annoyed. "I thought you all were gonna stay out of my hair for a while."

Gray eyes slide open, pulling against drugs, drowsiness, and gravity. The figures of the room's new occupants swim before him, sliding in and out of focus. Archer forces himself to concentrate, focusing hard on the figure just in front of him. "Naomi?" he slurs slowly, hard to understand. "Naomi?"

Naomi gasps silently and rushes to him. "Baby, I'm right here," she says, stroking his face and smiling both nervously and reassuringly. "I'm here."

Mark watches her, perplexed. It's no news to anyone that Archer is a Class-A Asshat. He's hurt more women than can be counted, and is possibly more of a manwhore than Mark himself. Naomi is a nice girl who's been hurt before, and who doesn't deserve to be hurt again.

But even when he's basically on a different planet thanks to the painkillers, Archer is different around Naomi. He doesn't act incorrigibly rude. He seems to not want to hurt Naomi.

Maybe good girls really can be happy with not-so-good guys.

Archer looks around the room lazily. He feels he needs to tell Naomi something. But his muddled mind can't make sense of it. He opens his mouth and forces it out, whatever it is. "What's…my socks." His eyes slide closed again and his head falls back against the pillow. Addison laughs softly in relief, and Sam takes a puff from his inhaler.

"It's the drugs talking," Bailey says distractedly, writing again. "It's better if he sleeps."

"Let him enjoy the ride," Mark cracks. Sam is still sucking on his inhaler, pain and panic written on his face. They turn to look at him, alarmed. "Sam, you okay?" He tries to nod, but can't. Chest hurting and not being able to inhale, his legs give out, and he collapses.

----------------------------

Mark takes a large gulp from the cappuccino in his hand, having changed back into his scrubs. He figures he'll be here through his next shift anyways, so he might as well. He's a bit guilty that he never got to go home to Lexie, but she'd understand.

Addison walks briskly past him, muttering something under her breath. Every time he sees her, she looks more and more unkempt. Her hair is slightly frazzled and her makeup is smudged. "You should get some rest," he says, standing in front of her and blocking her way. "You look like you're about hit the deck. Sam already went down, we don't need another one."

"You know, I so wish that was a possibility," she replies angrily, trying to push by him. "But Sam is incapacitated in a stolen bed in the surgical wing. Archer thinks Derek missed something and is demanding another C.T." Her voice gets sharper with every word. "When I asked Derek politely if he would comply, even to shut my brother up, he reached into his big bag of god complexes and refused. So, I went to the Chief, and at least he had the sense to agree." Mark lifts his eyebrows, barely following her rant.

"So now Archer might not be completely well. And Derek asked me to do a consult on his pregnant patient, and I think she's mirroring and we have no idea what could be wrong with the baby." Addison throws her hands in the air. "_How_ can I possibly get some rest? Maybe when the day gets better." She shakes her head and brushes past him, grumbling. "I might as well have someone following me around, kicking me in the shins every chance they can get!" she announces to nobody in particular.

Mark bites his lip as he continues walking. He doesn't want to laugh victoriously at the day she's had. The baby isn't the only one mirroring, apparently…he's had too many days like that to count thanks to her. That shin-kicking feeling? It's no stranger to Mark Sloan.

------------------------------------

His next stop is the C.T., just to check on Archer's condition. Naomi is standing there in the observation room, staring blankly at the man inside of the machine. Mark's wanted to get her alone since earlier, and this is a prime opportunity.

"Post-op C.T., everything okay?" He takes a seat in the chair before the monitors.

"I don't know," Naomi says, also sitting down. Mark glances at Archer.

"You know what's weird?" he starts, looking back at Naomi. She seems to be completely ready to answer.

"_You,_ who has never worn flannel a day in your life, living in Seattle and having a semi-incestuous relationship with your best friend's almost-sister." She smiles, satisfied. Mark purses his lips. Of course Addison told her.

"Hm. I was going to say," he corrects, "it's weird that I dislike Archer as much as I do, and…" He pauses. "Somehow, this you and Archer thing gives me hope. Lexie."

Naomi snorts. "The sister?"

"She's a good girl, she's a _nice_ girl," he tells Naomi, folding his hands behind his head. "Well-raised, kind, understanding, _sane_…she's like you." Naomi rolls her eyes. He presses onward despite her disinterested reactions, getting to the gist of his confession. "So if you can find happiness with Archer, I'm thinking…maybe there's hope." Saying it out loud sounds even better. Mark's heart soars, elated.

"You really think this thing's real between you and this little girl?" Naomi asks unconvinced, narrowing her dark eyes at Mark.

Mark wants to say yes. But, he's still afraid that saying that it was real would hurt him again. He had let himself believe that what was between him and Addison was real, and look where that got him. So, he shrugs instead. "I'm afraid to hurt her," he offers, opening his hands.

Naomi looks at her hands resting in her lap, wringing them, very quiet for a moment. "Do you think Archer is going to hurt me?" she questions timidly, biting her lip.

"I hope not. Like I said, you two give me hope."

A tiny smile breaks across Naomi's face.

------------------------------------------

Time passes. Addison and Derek manage to diagnose their patient, and operate. Sam makes a full recovery. Archer's scans come back, and that's what Mark is going to see now. He enters Archer's room, surprised to see the looks of sadness and foreboding on Sam and Naomi's faces. Archer himself looks very grim and angry.

"Why is it so quiet in here?" he asks uncomfortably.

"The scans," Sam whispers. "They weren't good. Derek…he didn't get them all." Mark swallows, the seriousness of the situation falling over him.

"I slept with Amy Garrison," Archer blurts after a moment of eerie quiet. Mark stares at him, eyes wide.

"You talking about my girlfriend sophomore year?"

"You went to Atlantic City with a bunch of guys and she was lonely," Archer excuses himself. "And I slept with her, and I'm sorry." He looks pleadingly up at Mark.

"Archer, you don't have to do this," Naomi tells him.

"No, I do. I'm dying. I'm dying, and…" His words fall to nothing as he fights back tears. "I wrecked your car, too," he says to Sam. Sam's head snaps up, eyes wide.

"The Plymouth?"

"No, Elsie James wrecked that car," Mark says.

"It was me. And, I was sleeping with her too."

"What?" Mark spits, suddenly enraged. This is not the best time for Archer to reveal that he's slept with two of Mark's girlfriends. He was possibly more of a prick than Mark ever believed him to be.

"I'm so sorry."

"Dying or not, I'm gonna kick your ass." Mark starts for him, and Sam leaps up to hold him back. "What about Nae?" he asks condemningly, pointing at Naomi. "Did you sleep with her while she was married?"

"No!" Naomi exclaims.

"I shouldn't have slept with her at all!" Archer hollers, drawing an incredulous look from Naomi. "I shouldn't have done that! A man doesn't do that to his friends!" Archer shakes his head against the new wave of grief. "I'm so sorry," he whispers again.

"What do you mean you're sorry?" Naomi's voice is wavering, half-broken. "You're sorry you're with me?"

"I'm sorry I have feelings for you, I'm sorry I'm going to die and leave you alone," he croaks, finally giving in to the tears. "I'm sorry for everyone I've ever hurt, I'm sorry for all the lies I've ever told. I'm sorry I'm not going to live long enough to be a better man, the man that you deserve!" The three watch as he breaks down completely, shuddering with sobs.

Derek pushes into the room, waving Archer's C.T. films in the air. "Next time I save your life, Archer, a simple thank you would suffice." Archer bares his teeth in fury and snatches the pictures from Derek. "If you were a neurosurgeon and not just a neurotic you would know that it is normal for a CSB to temporarily fill with fluid post-surgery." He looks down his nose at his ex-brother-in-law. "Repeat a C.T. in a month, and this will be clear."

"You mean he's going to be fine?" Naomi asks breathlessly.

"No," Derek replies, storming out of the room, "he's going to be an ass, like he's always been."

-------------------------------------------

After that whole ordeal, Mark had gone to the on-call room to get some rest. Addison wasn't the only one who had been up for an unbearable amount of time. Mark isn't sure if he had been out for minutes or hours before a loud knock on the door woke him.

He groans and clambers out of the bed, scratching at the back of his neck. He pulls on his scrub shirt, swearing to physically harm whoever had woken him up. He changes his mind immediately when he opens the door and sees Lexie standing there.

"Oh!" She smiles brightly, surprised and happy to see him, before suppressing her glee in favor of a more professional look. "Hello, Dr. Sloan." He grins down at her.

"Good morning, Dr. Grey. Or afternoon. I really don't know which one it is," he admits. She laughs, placing a hand in front of her mouth.

"It's the morning," she clues him in. He nods in thanks, stepping out of the dark on-call room and leaning against the wall next to the doorway. "How is everything? How was last night?" she asks him, hoping for a good answer.

"Everything is perfectly alright." He places his hand on her shoulder for a fleeting instant. "Archer is doing well. We had a good time at the bar last night." He's telling the truth. Even though Addison had tried to tear him a new one, he really did have a nice time.

"Good." Lexie's still smiling, grateful that he's still there with her.

Mark thinks of Archer's confession to Naomi. Granted, he thought he was a goner, but there was just such truth in his words. It was like he threw caution to the wind, saying it even though it was obviously new and painful.

Maybe it's time for Mark to do the same. Maybe it's time for him to say what he's been thinking for a while now out loud.

He pulls Lexie around the corner by her wrist to the stairwell, prudently making sure that they were indeed alone. "There's something I want to talk to you about," he forces himself to begin. He might as well dive into it headfirst.

Panic runs across Lexie's face. She's usually good at predicting things, but the slightly edgy look on Mark's face has her bewildered. "Um, okay," she stammers, dark eyebrows crawling upwards with concern.

Mark takes a deep breath to speak, but nothing comes out. He tries again, only managing to wrestle out, "I just…" He realizes that he still can't do it. Not yet. He can't tell her.

He's got to do something, though. She's staring up at him like she's about to cry. With one more sweeping glance above and around them, Mark gently pulls her toward him and kisses her. She melts against him, lips reflexively going pliant against his. Her mind is wiped clean of all of the worry as she kisses back, arms looping around his neck.

Once again, Mark loses track of time as he embraces her, moving both hands to cup her cheeks as he leans in to kiss her some more.

Addison sighs loudly as she enters the stairwell a flight above them. The day – well, it's technically two days now – has somehow only managed to get worse.

Not a second later, it goes from "worse" to "unbelievably worse." She takes in a sharp breath of air, taken aback as she sees Lexie and Mark in a tryst just down a set of stairs from her. He watches the way Mark kisses her: gently, like he doesn't want to break her, yet so passionately that the air around them becomes heavy. It's all too familiar and sends her into a tailspin to the past, when he used to kiss her like that.

She had told herself that the fact that Mark was seeing an intern wouldn't be real until she saw that it was real. And, now that she sees it, it hurts more than she thought it ever could. Breath explodes from her nose, an involuntary reaction to the burning in her chest. The invisible person that's been following her around jams its foot into her shin once again.

There's no holding back the anger now.

Mark and Lexie both sense a presence at the same moment, breaking apart quickly. They realize that it's Addison standing above them, not completely being able to hide the fact that she saw what they were doing. "Shit," Mark hisses under his breath through clenched teeth. Lexie's face burns and her heart races, hands shaking.

Addison clears her throat and continues down the stairs, moving to them like a slow-motion wrecking ball. She makes a point of staring at Mark, subtly clicking her tongue before saying, "We thought the surgery on the pregnant woman was successful, but it wasn't. She's talking nonsense now, and we don't know what's wrong." She places her hands on her hips, eyes never leaving Mark's. "I'm officially on the case now. So, I'll be around for a little longer than expected."

She heads toward the opening to the hallway Lexie and Mark had come from. Suddenly, she stops in her tracks and turns to look Lexie in the eye. The intern winces away, breath stolen from her lungs.

"Maybe I'll get a chance to work with you, Dr. Grey." Her words are the definition of passive-aggressive. "Word around the hospital is that you're the year's most promising intern." She holds in a small laugh of sudden spite. "I guess Dr. Sloan agrees."

With that, she walks away, heels clicking almost menacingly against the tile with every step.

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	6. Cry Me A River

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

**Notes: After this chapter, one more to go!**

In the last thirty minutes, every hope Mark Sloan had for things working out unhinged has gone down the drain. He felt them crumble as he watched Addison walk away from him and Lexie in the stairwell with her nose in the air. Frozen in place, blood running cold in his veins, he watched as she traveled down the hall and disappeared.

Looking at Lexie, his heart broke to see how terrified she looked. Her face was bright red, and her eyes were huge and glinting. Her porcelain forehead was wrinkled with concern as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. In an instant, they both understood. Their minds came to the ultimate conclusion at exactly the same time.

Addison would go to Derek. They were screwed.

Lexie had bolted, then, without a single word. Mark couldn't really blame her. He hasn't seen her since.

So now he's stalking the hallways, a coffee in each fist, searching for her. He knows that she probably feels like hell right now and could use some major. They both could. But after circling the entire surgical ward two and a half times without finding a single trace of her, Mark decides that Lexie is actually a magician who has performed a complete vanishing act. With a defeated sigh, he sets the coffees down on the counter at the central hub, rests his elbows on the surface, and places his forehead in his hands.

He barely gets a moment of peace before he feels a tap on his shoulder. "So," Callie Torres says with an eager grin as he slowly turns, "did you scope her out yet?"

He's not in the mood for this. He's not in the mood for much of anything. Callie is one of his best friends, but he just isn't feeling relationship advice right now. So, he tries to ignore the issue entirely, replying, "Who?"

"Arizona?" Callie offers impatiently, wearing an insuppressible smile. Mark catches himself before he groans aloud. It's too frustrating right now, when both his current relationship and oldest friendship are in peril.

"Oh, right, that." He sighs in frustration. "No, I haven't had a chance to swing by Peds and ask the nurse to point out the Attending who kissed my friend in a dirty bathroom," Mark answers sardonically, almost snapping at her. Callie raises her perfect dark eyebrows and holds her hands up.

"Easy, grumpy." She laughs uneasily as Mark exhales sharply and runs his fingers through his hair. Her eyes fall upon the cups sitting in front of him. "Well, at least you're still good for coffee." She reaches out to pick up one of them, but he stealthily slides both of them away from her hand.

"That's not for you." He looks her in the eye, trying to convey how serious he is right now.

"No, that's not for you, Callie."

Mark immediately tenses at the sound of Addison's voice. She saunters up to them, stopping just a bit too close to him for comfort, placing a hand on her hip. "It's obviously for his favorite intern." She smirks in self-satisfaction, blue eyes half-closed. "Look at how far the great Mark Sloan has fallen, fetching coffee for interns instead of having them fetch it for him. It's a shame, really," she says acidly before continuing on her way.

"Addison," he calls after her, voice hardening. "Don't do this!"

Callie stares between Mark and Addison's diminishing form before laughing once in confusion. "What just happened?" she asks in amazement.

Mark doesn't answer. He merely picks up the coffees and shoves them both into the wastebasket, enraged. Callie watches as he basically stomps off, arms crossing in front of his chest. It must be bad, she recognizes. He just wasted two entirely full cups of coffee.

Mark is so disgusted that he can hardly see straight. But, not all that just occurred hinted at a terrible doom. Addison was strolling freely through the hospital, probably in close contact with Derek because of her involvement in his case. So far, Derek hasn't jumped him from around the corner and taken an axe to his head or stabbed him with a ten blade. Maybe Addison wouldn't let him know after all.

Suddenly, Lexie's voice breaks through the buzz in his head, repeating advice she had given him two days ago. It seems like a lifetime ago.

"_It would be better if he heard it straight from you rather than finding out on his own."_

She was totally right. He can only imagine how much worse Derek's reaction would be if he found out from Addison. Mark would just have to get to him first, bite the bullet and confess.

Not knowing how much time was left on the clock until the bomb exploded, he scrapped his search for Lexie and began one for Derek instead.

-------------------------------------------

Unfortunately for Mark, Derek had just gone into surgery. It's a good long while before Mark's able to find him in a vacant office, gazing at a computer screen and scribbling something on a notepad. Mark had heard that the surgery had gone well, so that would be a source for major buttering up. It's one of those things that Mark is just good at. He paces for another moment, sticking a carefree face on, before charging into the room.

"There he is! The legend himself," he exclaims enthusiastically, camouflaging the hesitation with over-animation. "How are ya, Legend?" He sits down behind Derek.

Derek chuckles, eyes still on the monitor before him. "Are you drunk? Should I be worried about you?" he asks cheerfully. Mark is pleased; this is the happiest Derek has been in days. He just might have picked the correct opportunity.

"And he's got his sense of humor back," Mark says jokingly. "How's your patient?"

"She's good. Stable." Derek spins around in the chair, facing Mark. "You know, today's the first day in a long time that I remember what it's like to be good at my job," he admits, capping his pen.

"You? _Come on_." Mark makes an unconvinced face at him. "You're like the Dalai Lama of surgery." He knows he's laying it on a bit thick. "People from all over the world come here to let you cut into them, and you know what else?"

"What?"

"You look good doing it." Mark grins charmingly. "I like the facial hair, by the way, keep it that way. No more, no less."

"Stop," Derek replies with a wave of his hand, chuckling and spinning back around. Mark takes a deep breath. There's no more stalling now.

"Derek, there's something we need to discuss."

Derek gives a slight nod, answering what he supposes is Mark's question before he asks it. "Go ahead and have sex with Addison."

As soon as the words reach his ears, Mark feels a sensation akin to someone punching him in the gut. The air rushes out of him, and he's appalled at the words and unwanted memories. "Addison?" he struggles to get out.

"Go for it."

"I don't wanna have sex with Addison." Mark shakes his head close to violently.

"Really?" Derek glances over his shoulder. "Well what did you want to discuss?" The two of them stare at one another for a moment, in an impasse.

"Nothing," Mark replies very softly, eyes focusing on the ground. He feels Derek watch him for a second before he stands and whips his lab coat off of the back of his chair.

"Okay." Derek shrugs his coat onto his shoulders and exits the room.

Mark remains there, repulsion for his cowardice filling him. Another attempt, another failure. This one, though, could be the one that does him in.

-------------------------------------------------

Since the confrontation with Addison earlier, Lexie's been actively avoiding both her and Mark. It's very hard to do, considering that she still has patients to check on and reports to write up. She hasn't seen Mark anytime recently, but Addison has passed her several times in the hallways.

Every time she's near Addison, Addison looks at her. Sometimes with contempt, sometimes with disdain, but sometimes she just _looks_. Out of the corner of her eye, Lexie can see that Addison is measuring her up, scrutinizing her appearance. Whenever Addison's eyes fall upon her, Lexie can hardly breathe and the back of her neck burns.

Her reaction probably wouldn't be as bad if she wasn't afraid of losing Mark. Or if Addison wasn't possibly going to rat them out. Or if Addison wasn't simply stunning to behold. She's gorgeous, immaculately made-up and without a hair out of place, even after a long and stressful surgery. The scrub cap she wars of different shades of blue does amazing things to bring out the color of her eyes. She's absolutely beautiful, and, as a result, absolutely intimidating.

Lexie would try to get out of those situations as quickly as possible, usually managing to look more like a clumsy fool than anything. She's sure that Addison has been sneering at her all day every time she runs into somebody or something.

Lexie sighs and slides to the floor of the supply closet, a stash of patient charts in her arms. She's gone back to her old methods of hiding, a stage she thought she was well past. She briefly considered going straight to Derek and telling him herself. But, she couldn't catch a break.

She slowly opens the first chart and clicks her pen. She's got post-ops out the ass and about a million charts to check.

She really hopes Addison won't come into her closet with her fabulousness and scorn.

---------------------------------------------------

Drastic times call for drastic measures. Mark knows this and embraces it. It's why he's sitting pensively on the couch of an on-call room, waiting for Addison to answer her page. If he couldn't tell Derek, he would have to cut Addison off in her tracks. It's his last resort before all else fails.

The door flies open and there she stands, looking slightly aggravated. "You paged?" she says, closing the door behind her. "My patient might be preeclamptic, so I don't know how much time I have to spare."

He studies her expression: exasperation and impatience with just a hint of pain and sadness underneath. She combs her fingers through her hair and sighs deeply. In the past, paging her to an on-call room would have implications of a very different nature. He hopes she's not expecting anything like that.

He moves over on the couch, observing her every move carefully as she sits next to him and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Look," he murmurs, looking down at the carpet, "she makes me happy, okay? She's the best thing that's happened to me in a while. So if you could just lay off and leave it alone, I would appreciate it." Addison lets out a loud laugh before she can stop herself.

"You mean the pre-schooler?" she asks in fake disbelief, widening her eyes in an overly-exaggerated way. "Has the innocent little thing gone and tamed the manwhore?" She rolls her eyes and lets them linger on the ceiling, exhaling huffily.

"It's not like that."

"Honestly, I hope you don't really think that this is going to work out for the two of you."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?!" Mark demands, resisting the urge to pound the arm of the couch with his fist. Was it so implausible that he could find happiness with Lexie Grey? Callie and Naomi didn't think so, and now Addison has made her thoughts clear as well. The anger overshadows any trepidation he had about Derek finding him out. "Why is it so hard to believe that I can be happy with Lexie Grey?"

"Because, Mark, you're you!" she exclaims as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You're the player. You're the guy who sleeps with a woman and then never calls back. You're the one who hits on anything with a pulse. You give women hope and then abandon them." She counts on her hand as she lists. "You sleep with the woman your best friend asks you not to, after having slept with his _wife_ in the past."

"People change." Softly, barely a breath, but just indignant enough to come across.

"Regardless," she continues with a flourish of her perfectly-manicured hand, "you're the Mark Sloan who hurts people. This girl, she just seems too _nice_ for you, too innocent and fragile."

"I don't want to hurt her," he says adamantly, face growing hotter.

She ignores him completely. "You need someone who's willing to stand up to you." It's about now that Mark realizes that Addison is dangerously close to him. Her knee and thigh are pressed to his, her arm resting on his own. She's turned her head to face him, and her face is just a bit too close for comfort. He shrinks back, but she leans in again.

"You need someone who knows how to put up with you." She moves closer and Mark shivers, heart pounding in his chest and ears. "You need someone who can take it and give it right back."

She's almost leaning over him now, trapping him between her body and the arm of the sofa. Her eyelids droop and her brilliant blue irises darken. It's an expression that Mark has seen countless times before, and, swallowing hard, he recognizes it immediately.

When she speaks, the words are low and throaty with a degree of gentleness and sensuality to them. "Someone…" She's way too close now, an inch away. Mark's breath hitches, his body completely paralyzed. "Like…" He knows what's coming next.

Before he can react, she's kissing him, lips pressed gently to his as her eyes slide closed.

And Mark kisses back. He can't help himself. He doesn't want to, but it's a force of habit. He'd grown used to kissing Addison. It's something he can't forget how to do, like riding a bike. Powered by something greater than his will, he kisses back, even accepting as she deepens it by opening her mouth against his.

It's all so familiar. The way she brings her up her hand to stroke the stubble of his cheeks, how her teeth graze his lower lip, the way her tongue slides against his. Her lips are as soft as ever, with that same slightly sweet flavor. He remembers exactly what to do and does it: moves his hand to the side of her neck, thumb lifting her chin and other fingertips entwining in her hair while he exhales her name heavily into her mouth.

But, in saying her name, it dawns on him. This is a very bad thing he's doing. He doesn't want this, not one bit. It's the action without any of the feelings that used to come with it. There's nothing but an empty sadness. Forcing hard to make his body override impulse, he closes his lips tight. He places both hands on Addison's shoulders and pushes her away gently yet firmly and finally.

She stares at him for a moment, perfect red eyebrows contorted in a look of hurt and confusion. He shakes his head. "Like I said," he states decisively, staring into her eyes, "people change. I'm not the Mark Sloan you remember. I can't do this, Addison. Not anymore."

She scoots away from him as if he was on fire and she didn't want to catch, fixing her gaze on the ceiling as scarlet creeps up her neck and cheeks. She says nothing, so Mark continues bravely. "You can't leave and expect everything here to stay the same. The Callie Torres you knew isn't the Callie Torres who's here. Neither is the Derek Shepherd or the Meredith Grey. People change, even if you're not here to see it."

"You think I don't realize that?" she says in monotone.

"It seems like you don't," he admits. "You come back here with our old friends who press Derek to talk about old times. He's trying to propose to Meredith for Christ's sake. You come back for two visits and don't realize that people move on?"

"I know." Her words are next to silence as she closes her eyes, overcome by a sudden emotion. "It's just-" She stops, biting back and swallowing away a lump in her throat. "I went to Oceanside for a change. My life was going nowhere here, I'd used up all of my options. But then the instant I leave, everyone here, their lives change and mine's still exactly the same."

Mark scratches at his scalp. "But that's a choice you made. You can't take it back."

"Now I come back and see how different everybody is. And it hurts, Mark," she says in almost a plea, finally meeting his eyes. "It hurts to see that everyone else, all of my friends, are finding their own and I'm still searching." She pauses. "But, God, we're you and me. We're Mark and Addison. What happened to us, Mark?"

He clenches his jaw as he prepares to finally let out the secret that he held to protect her for so long. "You sleeping with Alex Karev happened to us," he says darkly, face dead serious. "I was trying to change for you, and I was doing a damn good job of it. I didn't break the pact, I didn't sleep with anybody."

Her jaw falls open and she inhales sharply, face taking on an expression of a hybrid of shock and guilt. She moves her mouth to say something, but no sound comes out.

"I saw you come out of the supply closet with him. After that, I knew that you could never truly be happy with me. So I made myself let you go. I think about that day all the time. Sometimes I hate myself for it, sometimes I'm glad I did it. All I know is that it's always somewhere on my mind."

"I was happy with you."

"Oh, please." He laughs bitterly. "You didn't trust me. I knew that you weren't content being with me. But, Addison, as much as you felt I hurt you, you hurt me more. You refused to give me a chance to become a better man. You refused to have my child. You couldn't just be happy with who I was. And the person that I am now, the one who changed on his own terms, can't look at you the same anymore."

Silence falls over them for a few moments as they avert their glances, unable to stare the failure of their relationship in the face. "I'm sorry," she breathes after a long time. "I'm sorry about what happened before and I'm sorry about now. I don't even know why I did that or what I'm doing here."

"Don't worry about it."

"We couldn't have made it work," she says, trying out the words for the first time. "Maybe it was my fault, maybe it was yours. Maybe it was both of us. But we couldn't have pulled it off." She speaks as though she's just unlocked the answer to some cosmic riddle.

"No," Mark agrees. "Not with the way we were."

She smiles sadly, and he does too. "I'm happy for you, I guess. I'm glad you're managing to find something good. If this girl – Lexie – can make you feel the way you say you do, then she's good for you." Her smile gives way to a laugh that seems to come from out of nowhere. "Now if only I could find one, too."

Mark squeezes her shoulder comfortingly. "You will, Addie. It takes a while, but it's worth it in the end. You have to find somebody new, somebody who's good for you the way you are now. Because you might not think so, but you've changed too." He shrugs. "Besides, even though some things are different, you'll always have your friends here. I'll always be here. For talking. And joking. No sex allowed." He grins at her, the first time he's really smiled at her in a long time. It feels good. She seems relieved as well, the corners of her eyes wrinkling.

Suddenly, the pager on her hip begins to beep incessantly. She's quick to check it, and sighs deeply after she does. "It's Jen," she explains, standing and smoothing her scrubs. "I have to go."

The mood suddenly changes. Somber. Not sad, just somber. Her face falls as she looks at him. She speaks with a slow inflection, her eyes locked with his. "Thanks, Mark. For everything."

"You too," he replies, just as serious.

There is something so final, so closing in their words that it's like a weight is lifted between them. They're hit with it at the same time, a feeling that could have driven them to their knees. With no words coming to mind to say, Addison clears her throat and heads for the door. As soon as she opens the door, she speaks up.

"One more thing, Mark."

He glances up at her. "What?"

"If you want whatever it is between you and Lexie to work out," she says distinctly, waving her index finger at him, "you have to start it right. You have to correct the first failure you made in our relationship."

Mark has to think for a moment before the answer to her cryptic statement comes to him. "I have to tell Derek."

She shakes her head and smirks at him, tongue between her teeth as she leaves him in the on-call room. After another second, Mark leaps to his feet and exits as well. He's going to do it right He won't fail again. Equipped with a newfound determination, he sets out to find Derek and tell him the truth once and for all.


	7. The Gloves Are Off

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

**Notes: My life is a complete lie. There will still be one more chapter after this one; the fisticuffs between Mark and Derek ended up quite longer than I expected. So, don't think the end of this chapter is the end. Because that'd be really really crappy.**

As soon as Mark's feet hit the hallway floor, he realizes dumbly that Derek would be called into the same surgery as Addison. It would probably be hours until he would be available. Mark swears under his breath, fists and jaw clenching in complete frustration. His new fervor, the brand-new need to finally tell Derek about him and Lexie would have to wait.

It's not all bad, though. Not ten minutes later, Mark is paged to the E.R. for a consult. A teenager apparently did something stupid with some lighter fluid and ended up burning a good portion of his left arm. It's definitely non-surgical, but Mark offers to stay and dress the kid's wounds himself. The mundane task is a good distraction, a device to occupy his time while he waits for Derek to come out of surgery.

The entire time he's in The Pit, he also keeps one eye on the lookout for Lexie. She doesn't come by.

It's about an hour and a half later when the adolescent clown is all taken care of, injuries bandaged and on pain medication, having been given a good lecture and reason not to play with fire every again. Mark gives the boy's parents a quick goodbye, thanking them for their cooperation before he sets off once again to see if his friend is out of surgery.

--------------------------

As luck would have it, he almost immediately finds Derek on the bridge, leaning against the railing. His head is hanging low beneath his shoulders, the twilight casting eerie shadows across him from the huge window. His eyes are closed and he's hunched completely over, hands wringing close to furiously. It's obvious that this isn't a good time.

Mark should have recognized this as Derek's need-to-be-alone position (he's seen it enough times before to be totally familiar with it), and it should have been Mark's first clue to turn back. But, he presses on, driven by an overwhelming determination to say those words: "I'm seeing Lexie."

Mark approaches Derek slowly, scratching nervously at his head and ear before stopping beside him. Derek doesn't give him a single glance. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, balks, comes to his senses, and pushes onward all in a matter of a few seconds. The words fall from him mouth in a forced, quick, and garbled sentence. It's like an out-of-body experience as he hears himself say, "I'm seeing Lexie." He pauses before adding for clarity, "Well, I'm sleeping with her too."

Instantly, Derek springs to life, head snapping to glare at Mark and moving away from the railing. His blue eyes are almost manic. Mark freezes. Throwing that last bit in there was very _very _dumb. So, he hurries to make an excuse. "But, it's more than that. We're happy. I'm happy." He gives a half-shrug, widening his eyes, having told the truth. He _is_ happy.

Mark sees what's coming next from a mile away. He sees Derek rear back, pulling his fist into the air. Mark braces himself just before Derek nails him in the jaw with a solid right hook, grunting with exertion. Mark knows how to take a punch; he follows the force of the blow, even though it wasn't the most powerful thing in the world. He's well aware of how Derek hits, it's not the first time Derek's punched him. He doesn't throw all of his weight behind his arm, so how blows aren't completely devastating. Still, it smarts enough to make Mark rub at his jaw for a second.

He's not all that surprised that Derek hit him. He would probably hit himself in the situation. He hopes that Derek has it out of his system. "Okay, that's…" He says, turning back around to face Derek, hand still on his jaw. "Maybe I deserved that." Mark nods.

Suddenly, it falls to him. The ludicrousness of it all. The fact that he's been hiding a perfectly acceptable relationship from his best friend for far too long. It's just plain stupid. Derek was the one who was out of line, telling him he couldn't sleep with Lexie. Anger wells in his chest as he says, "You know what?" He narrows his eyes at Derek as Derek clutches his hand, breathing heavily. "I didn't deserve that. You have no right to tell me who I can sleep with-"

He's caught a little more off-guard again. His sentence is cut off when Derek's fists explodes against his face again, this time clipping his cheekbone, causing the muscle beneath to twitch. The blow spins him around, almost knocking him over. He gasps, catches himself on the railing, feeling the anger rise to an extreme level. The fire is ignited.

He turns to Derek again, face hot with rage, causing his blood to boil. Before thinking, he plants his foot, swings his fist, and comes back with a hook of his own, driving his first hard into Derek's jaw. The sound of Mark's punch connecting with Derek's face is a sickening thud. Derek crumples to the floor with a small cry of pain, landing on his hands and knees.

Mark's hand throbs painfully and he grimaces, shaking it off. He inhales sharply through his teeth as he bends and straightens his fingers. That would do. It would go the way it always went, fighting with Derek. Mark would walk away, refusing to really finish it. Derek couldn't fight as well as him, and Mark respected that, even though Derek wasn't always right. No fight had ever been worth their friendship. But Mark has one consolation. Even if it hadn't gone so well, at least he told Derek the truth. Mark turns his back to Derek's broken form on the floor, starting to walk away, holding his right hand in his left.

He barely makes it three steps before something slams into his back, knocking him to the floor and the wind out of him. It takes only a second for it to register that Derek had tacked him and they were both sprawled on the tile, a mess of limbs as they struggled wildly, huffing and puffing and grunting, for the upper hand.

A crowd begins to gather, watching the two men roll and thrash on the ground. They whisper and murmur in confusion, wondering with disdain why they could be fighting. Despite Mark's best efforts, Derek's ambush pays off as he tolls on top of Mark, pinning him to the cold floor. Mark is afraid for a moment as he looks up at Derek, seeing that he's unhinged and wild. Derek raises his fist and punches him one, two, three, four times in the left eye. Mark gasps, feeling flesh bruising and tearing every time Derek's fist makes contact.

With a roar, Mark grabs Derek's arms and throws him over, fighting his way to the top. He gets a nice hard punch in, causing Derek to wince and let out a sharp breath. He reaches back to hit him again when something dawns on him, the multitude freezing him instantly. He's fighting back. He's never let a fistfight between him and Derek go so far, even when they were kids. He's always taken Derek's crap in stride. But now, here he is, giving Derek just what he deserves. His heart pounds in his ears, drowning out all of the other noise around him.

Mark has found something worth fighting for.

It feels good. He's damn proud of it.

Unfortunately, in his moment of epiphany, Derek takes the opportunity to hold Mark up, hand pressed to his throat. Mark counters angrily, pushing Derek's head into the floor with his palm. They're in a deadlock for an instant, scowling at one another, teeth bared, chests heaving with fury and exhaustion. Suddenly, Derek shoves his foot against Mark's thigh with considerable power. Mark, knocked off-balance, stumbles backwards and off of Derek, grasping frantically for the railing, grabbing it just before he hits the floor. Derek clambers to his feet and charges at Mark once again, trapping him against the edge of the catwalk.

Owen Hunt picks a good time to shoulder his way through the throng of spectators and step onto the bridge. He stares in awe and confusion as Mark once again turns the tables. He snarls fiercely, whirling Derek around and hitting him square in the nose with a jab. He takes careful consideration as to not send him toppling over the barrier. As he shifts his weight with the punch, Mark is vaguely aware that he's lost a shoe, his socked foot slipping slightly on the smooth tile.

Urgency grips Hunt as realization sets in. This is very dangerous, he observes as his colleagues continue to spar, swinging fervently at one another and grappling intensely. It's a situation he's seen before, seen the consequences of. Both of these men have something they're fighting for, something driving their blows. Owen can see this plain as day in their wild eyes.

Neither will back down until the other is destroyed, or he himself is destroyed.

Mark and Derek clutch at the lapels of one another's lab coats, yanking furiously. Derek hits the floor, tugging Mark down on top of him. Owen immediately rushes towards them, already seeing the end to this fight and knowing it's not a good one.

Mark lands one more blow before he feels Hunt grasping at the back of his collar, jerking to his feet. Mark tries to break free, trying to get to Derek again, wanting to end it. But it's to no avail as Hunt heaves him back again, assertively grunting, "Come on! Come one, it's done."

The words trigger for the reaction in Mark to stop; it really is done. Slowly, he straightens, Hunt's arms still wrapped around his in a precautionary measure.

Derek writhes on the floor at his feet, moaning, gripping at his nose and forehead. Mark shrugs out of Hunt's grasp, staggering for a moment before collapsing to one knee, dizzy from exertion and shock. The implications come to him suddenly. He tries to swallow, but it won't happen.

Through his haze, he sees Meredith rush to Derek's side as Derek stands very unsteadily. He's bleeding from the corner of his mouth, his nose is cut, and his eye is bruised, and he's gasping for air. He wipes at the stream of scarlet on his chin as Meredith holds his arm and leads him away, a look of horror on her face. Derek doesn't even glance back at Mark.

Mark braces himself on the railing and stands slowly again. He's now aware of his own injuries: a gash on his forehead and an aching eye. He can smell blood as he inhales sharply through his nose. His hand is his main concern, though. He tries to bend his fingers, and pain shoots up his arm as he does. His knuckles are beginning to swell.

He hopes it isn't broken, but, he thinks, it might be worth it if it is. It's both relieving and sickening to know that this is the end to secrecy, the end to sneaking around with Lexie like some criminal. Even if Derek doesn't like it, at least he knows. He's aware. And that's good enough for Mark.

He fought back for what he really wanted, and he fought well. He might have sacrificed his best friendship and might have even compromised his career, but he did it in pursuit of something that made him genuinely happy.

It was definitely worth it, he thinks, elated. He's half-breathless and battling a kind of overwhelming pride.

He begins to walk away confidently with all of his dignity; he knows that everyone is staring at him. He feels their eyes on him, full of wonder and trepidation and disdain. He wants to find Lexie right now, to kiss her in front of everyone, to show her how hard he fought for her. But an intensely painful throbbing in his hand brings him back to reality. With a sigh, he decides that his hand takes priority here.

Lexie would have to wait.

He wonders if Callie is still around to see if his hand is alright.  
-------------

**Another reminder, this is not the end of the story. Another chapter will be added soon!**


	8. Then There's You

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

**Notes: And so begins the final chapter! Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, and enjoyed.**

Lexie hears the first whispers in the locker room. Her shift is over, and she's more than ready to get the hell out of the hospital for the night. If she can leave quickly enough, then maybe a disaster could be completely averted after all. But, as she's changing, she notices the murmurs and mumbles coming from all of her colleagues, from the corners of their mouths. They're hunched over, eyes darting from side to side, lips moving rapidly as they compare information about something. Lexie tries not to roll her eyes; more Seattle Grace gossip.

When she has one arm in her sweater, Ryan plops down on the bench facing her, swinging one leg over to the other side. "What do you know? Anything we don't? You were on plastics today, so you have to know something, right?" he asks in an excited half-whisper, eyes bright with enthusiasm. At her non-reaction, he continues incredulously, "Did you even hear anything?"

"About what?" she asks flatly, to appease him, pulling her shirt the rest of the way on. In that one moment all of the interns stop what they're doing to stare at her, amazed at her ignorance. Ryan's dark eyebrows travel up his forehead as he answers her.

"Sloan and Shepherd just got into this epic fight on the bridge. Fistfight." He shudders, not with disgust, but with amazement.

It takes a moment for it to sink in. They echo in her mind a few times, and she's unable to fathom that phrase, those words placed together in that order. Her mind turns fuzzy at corners as dread grips at her chest. Her throat is stiff, she can't swallow and it feels strange to breathe.

Ryan and the others, in their mirth, don't seem to notice the panic-stricken look her face. They don't see that she's gone completely pale or that her eyes have glossed over. They begin to talk in the open, discussing the news out loud for the first time.

"I heard it was a sick fight, too," Pierce comments, grinning and jab-cross-hooking at some invisible opponent in front of him. "I wish I could have seen it!" he cries, throwing his hands over his head in victory, Rocky-style.

"Apparently Shepherd went crazy on Sloan," Leo added. "But then Sloan came back and would have beaten the shit out of Shepherd if Dr. Hunt hadn't stepped in." Steve whined something to Leo, and took him aside, because it was completely obvious that Steve had a major mancrush on Shepherd. There was almost another fight started in the locker room over Leo's comment.

"So violent, I don't get how you guys can revel in this," Graciella says, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Still, I wonder what could have made them fight like that. They were both completely unhinged, I heard."

"Oh, totally!" Ryan exclaims, throwing his hands into the air. "I need to know. Do you have any idea what they could have been fighting over, Grey?" It's only when he addresses her that he notices her expression, her chalky complexion, her terrified eyes. "Whoa, you okay, Grey?" He knits his brow in concern. "Lexie?"

But she can't respond. She opens her mouth and feels that air is rushing past her vocal cords, but no vibration accompanies. It's an all-encompassing terror, the realization of her worst fear about the whole situation. "I have to go," she blurts quickly, voice tight and strangled, before gathering her things and rushing for the door.

She walks through the corridors to the exit, moving as quickly as she can without breaking into a jog. She can hear the rest of the staff talking about the incident as well, doctors and nurses speaking in low hushed voices. They say things that Lexie instantly wishes she hadn't overheard, things of injuries and _hand_ injuries and possible suspensions. A wave of nausea rolls over her. The back of her neck tingles with heat.

It happened. Mark told Derek and Derek went ballistic. It was all about her, all about her and Mark. Their friendship and their careers are in jeopardy just because of her. She hadn't thought it would go this way, but it did and she feels sick.

She has a feeling that this is the beginning of the end.

When she exits the hospital and the chilly outside air hits her, it does nothing to cool her off; it only makes her clammy and shivery. With her eyes on the ground before her, she heads for her car, climbing inside and taking two attempts to start it with her shaking hands. She pulls out of the parking lot and speeds away, needing to get as far away as she can as quickly as she can.

Without thinking (without the capacity of thought) she travels on the route that she normally takes home. It's not until she reaches a certain part of highway that she realizes that she has a choice to make: stay straight, go to Meredith's; turn left, go to the Archfield. By habit she has her left turn signal on, but maybe it's best if she doesn't go to the hotel right now, so she thinks better of it and turns it off. Then she flicks it on once again, and then off, suddenly in an agony of indecision.

She has to pull over for a second, to force herself to think clearly. She grips the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white, tears of frustration and fear burning her eyes and threatening to fall. Everything had been compromised for her. And if Mark has to choose between her and Derek, she knows what his choice will be. It's completely obvious. Derek's been there for him forever.

She's caught in an awful position. No matter where she goes home to, she'll have to see one of them. Either way, it won't be good. The question remains, which one would she rather have to face? She sits there, car stalling on the side of the highway, for a long time, bouncing back and forth between decisions.

Finally, she swallows hard and wipes her eyes and pulls back onto the road. She forces herself to make a decision, turning left at the last second, the sharp turn causing her stomach to drop. She continues to drive, a numb anxiousness overcoming her. She made her choice; she's going to the Archfield.

Now all that remains is for her to wait for Mark to come home and tell her what choice he made.

If it's going to end, she needs to know. She needs to hear it for herself.

-----------------------------------------------------

"You," Callie announces snidely, pulling Mark into the exam room by the front of his shirt, "are a dumbass." She basically tosses him onto the table, sitting on the stool in front of him with a huff. She takes his ailing hand into hers.

He completely disagrees with her, of course, but considering that she's doing a favor for him (her shift technically ended ten minutes ago) he really doesn't have a choice but to go along with it. Also, she's touching his possibly-broken hand. He nods.

She runs a finger over his knuckles, evaluating their size, her dark eyes narrowed in concentration. "I mean, God, Mark." She palpates his palm. "Do you have any idea what could happen to you now?" she asks, scoffing, making an incredulous and disapproving face at him.

"I know," he replies softly, wincing as she pushes on a sore spot.

"Can you bend your fingers?" He does, even though it hurts pretty badly, and she studies the angle that each ends up at. "Was it really worth it?" she adds, raising one eyebrow, voice going up an octave at the end.

"Yes," Mark answers without hesitation, eyes locking with hers.

It's such a sure and assertive tone, such a serious expression on his face that Callie freezes for a moment, her mouth falling open. His reaction is completely definitive and it's obvious that the fight or something else that happened today has changed him. All at once he's Mark and not Mark; he's the man she's always known him to be, but, at the same time, a different version, a version that's completely sure about something. It's a version that she hasn't seen often, if, she wracks her memory, at all.

His icy eyes continue to bore into hers, and she knows that it would be for the best if she backs off. She clears her throat. "Well." Regains her bearings. "Well, in that case, I guess I have no choice but to be happy for you, _champ_." The snark and grin she's giving him are merely playfully teasing. He recognizes this and returns the sarcastic smirk as Callie reaches into a drawer and pulls out some medical tape.

"Okay, well, it's not broken," she sighs. "But I'm going to tape it up anyway. It's going to hurt like hell later on, too, so what do you want for it? Pick your poison."

"Nothing," he tells her. He wants the pain. He accepts it. It's a reminder of what happened, a reminder of the fight and how he fought and what he fought for. When she offers to bandage the gashes on his lip and forehead, he refuses this as well.

"Brave soul," Callie comments, widening her eyes. "Just promise me you'll take something for the swelling?"

"I promise."

She sets his hand and begins to wrap it with the tape, holding it solidly in position. "I really am glad for you, you know," she remarks, distracted, weaving the adhesive around his palm. "Glad that you found someone. Even though I'm a little bitter that I still can't."

"What happened to Nevada?" Mark asks, unable to suppress a smile.

"Arizona." Callie rolls her eyes before diving into a rant. "Can you believe that she turned me down? She called me _inexperienced_." Callie scrunches her face in anger and confusion.

"She called you inexperienced?" Mark repeats, bewildered, before laughing. "That has to be the funniest thing I've ever heard."

"Ha ha ha."

"Seriously though." Callie finishes taping his hand. "You just need to tell her how experienced you are, because you _are_." He grins. "You keep it up and it'll work out. And if it doesn't, it wouldn't have been meant to be."

Callie only gives him a half-smile before fetching an ice pack, waving it at him and placing it over his knuckles. "You need to ice your hand, too. Lots and lots of ice."

"Okay."

"Hey." Callie and Mark both turn to see Addison standing in doorway, leaning with one hand against the frame. She's got that look on her face that Callie and Mark can recognize immediately, both having worn it before. It's an expression of resigned sadness, caught somewhere between the devastating loss of a patient and the acceptance of that loss. "I just wanted to say goodbye to you guys." She smiles sadly and runs her fingers through her hair, obviously exhausted.

"Oh, I wish you could stay longer," Callie says softly, enveloping Addison in a big hug. "We miss you!"

"I know," Addison replies, giving Callie a squeeze. "But it's time for me to mosey on home. Back where I belong." In her voice is a strange mixture of nostalgia and yearning, stuck between where she belongs and where she used to belong.

Callie releases Addison and immediately notices the glances being exchanged between Mark and Addison, full of meaning and the desire to talk privately. Taking this as her cue, she clears her throat. "Well, remember, lots of ice. Bye." With a final smile, she leaves the room.

Addison pouts as she saunters up to Mark. "How does the other guy look?" she asks sarcastically, pursing her lips and gingerly touching the cut on Mark's forehead. One corner of Mark's mouth pulls into a half-grin.

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "About the same, I hope."

Addison narrows her eyes, scrutinizing his bruises. "This thing between you and Lexie, it must be real," she concludes. "Would you have fought for me like that?"

He doesn't answer, but the question isn't meant to have an answer. She doesn't want one.

"So, you're really going back to Los Angeles?" Mark asks her, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Yes." She nods, smirking. "Back to sunlight and beautiful people and surfing."

"But you'll be back."

"Someday. Hopefully I'll be invited to the wedding, if there is a wedding."

"Yeah."

Small laughter, then a pause. Mark is the first to speak.

"Good." Sincere. The idea of her being here, it's not scary anymore. It's not the problem it once was. "Looking forward to it."

"Me too." Addison grins.

She embraces him and he embraces her, gently squeezing her hip with his good hand. This time, there's no pain, no ghosts from the past to make it uncomfortable. After a long moment, she pulls away, gently patting him on the non-bruised cheek. "Well, I guess I'll see you soon." Her smile is real this time. "Will you tell Lexie that it was nice to meet her? I don't want her to think I'm Satan or anything. I don't want a repeat of the Meredith situation."

Mark laughs. It wouldn't be the first time somebody thought that. "I will."

Addison straightens and heads for the door saying, "Good luck, with everything. Goodbye, Mark."

And with that she walks away, leaving him and Seattle for the third time. But not for good. She'll be back. She'll always come back. But it will be alright; it will be more than alright. Mark can't help but smile to himself.

He's found a way to move forward, and he knows that she will too. Extending into the future, their paths are parallel now: never meant to cross, but still side-by-side. And to Mark, that sounds just wonderful.

----------------------------------------------

Callie drives him back to the Archfield. Lexie is waiting there for him; he knows this, he can feel it. He also realizes that she's probably freaking out. Callie drops him off and continues on her way (throughout the entire drive, she ranted about how she was going to Joe's to march up to Arizona and tell it like it is). He rushes to his floor, almost jogging down the hallway. He doesn't want to keep her waiting any longer. He stops in front of his door, taking a deep breath before unlocking – it takes a bit longer than usual with his left hand – and opening it.

He takes the steps across the threshold, stopping in his tracks as he sees her lying on the bed in a crumpled heap. She hears him enter and curls into herself, as if reflexively trying to disappear. It amazes Mark that she's in the same position he was in about two days ago (is it really only two days?). This time, she's the one who's terrified and he's the one who's going to be there to comfort her. It's her turn to be reassured.

"Lexie," he says her name softly, voice low and gravelly. He doesn't move to her, just stays where he is, letting her make the first move.

At the sound of her name, she jerks, then freezes, and then slowly sits up to look at him. It nearly physically hurts him to see what kind of state she's in. Her sleek hair is disheveled and her hazel-brown eyes are rimmed with scarlet. She hasn't been crying, there are no tear tracks on her cheeks. But her eyes are glossy and watery regardless, wide with something between a plea and a prayer. It looks as if she got halfway to crying but then couldn't summon the strength to let the tears come.

She bites her lip, fists clenching. He's here. It's unavoidable now.

He watches her, waiting patiently during the moment it takes for her to absorb all of his injuries. Her stomach churns, eyes somehow manage to widen even more, and fingertips fly to her lips as she processes everything. The gash on his forehead, the cut on his lip, the bruise marring the corner of his eye.

She feels numb and everything's in slow-motion as her eyes fall to his hand, his _scalpel_ hand, taped up with an ice pack attached to it. This, this was the part she was most afraid of.

It's just as bad as she's been picturing it to be. She swallows nothing, almost choking on the huge lump in her throat. It's all too terrifying to think about, and she wants to go to him but she can't will her lefts to move, so she stays put, immobilized on the edge of the bed.

The colors of the room's interior suddenly become a lot sharper to Mark as an adrenaline rush catches him off-guard, flooding over him, intoxicating him. Nothing remains to stop him from what he's about to do: no guilt about Derek, no secrecy, no skeletons in the closet. He's finally going to tell her what's been whispering at the corners of his mind, what he's said quietly to himself several times just to try the words out.

"We need to talk." The words come out all wrong to start with, sounding like it's an ending. He hadn't intended that. Lexie doesn't move, looking like she's been dreading this but, at the same time, expecting it. He shakes his head, wanting to get back on the right track.

He'll have to begin at the beginning. He'll have to begin with the truth.

"Addison kissed me today," he blurts, the words torn from his lips by this need to tell her everything. He sees her reaction in slow-motion: her eyes narrow in sudden pain, she bites down hard on her lip, cringing, shoulders tensing. He wants to quit talking and to hold her, but he can't stop now. "And I kissed back."

Lexie is both speechless and breathless, teeth pressed against her lips so hard she feels like she might draw blood. Her chest is empty but also ready to explode. So Addison was the problem all along. The pain is raw and sharp at the edges.

Mark speaks again, more quickly this time, wanting to spare her of the pain as soon as possible. "But almost as soon as I started to, I knew that I didn't want to. It wasn't the same as it was before, it did nothing but make me feel empty." He stops to swallow and lick his lips anxiously. "I realized that the past can really be and _is_ in the past. I loved her, and that's true, there's no way I can deny that. But I don't anymore. And that's just as true."

Lexie listens, now. There's hope, she recognizes from under the fog. There might be hope.

"So, after that, I found Derek and told him. Just like you wanted me to, and, underneath it all, I wanted to. As you heard and can definitely see, it didn't go very well." He gives her a tiny smirk, gesturing with his good hand at his face and bad hand. She allows herself to nod almost imperceptibly, slightly comforted by his demeanor.

"I'm so sorry," she says in barely more than a whisper, closing her eyes and hugging her chest. "I caused this. I never wanted to pit Derek against you. It's all about me-"

"No!" he exclaims, cutting her off with an outstretched open palm. Her sentence falls to nothing. "You see, it's perfectly okay." He pauses. "In fact, it's better than okay. Because, until today, I've never stood up to Derek for anything I've really wanted. I've never been willing to sacrifice our friendship for anything. Until today. Today, I fought for something that's honestly worth it." She stares up at him, regaining the ability to breathe normally. "I fought for you. And I'd do it again, and again. And then again. Lexie, you are worth it."

Lexie's heart swells and leaps as Mark rushes over to her and grabs her wrist in his left hand. He pulls her to her feet in a quick yet gentle motion, as if she was light as a feather, and she comes to rest against him, her entire weight leaning against his strong frame. He holds her by the hips, gripping with his good hand, the other laying limp on the curve just above. She takes a deep breath that shudders as she exhales, relaxing her shoulders.

"All because of this," Mark goes on, feeling her melt against him, staring deep into her eyes, their dark brown irises with honey flecks. His voice loses volume, wanting to be able to build what's coming next up. "I've been feeling this for a while, but, the last time I felt it, I ended up getting hurt. But, I want to say it. I'm finally free to."

He breaks for a deep breath, holding Lexie's warm body to his. "Look, the sex is wonderful – spectacular – but it isn't everything. It's so different now than it was being with Addison or Callie. With you, I don't feel like a mere distraction or just a friend with benefits. You make me feel like a real person. When I'm with you, I feel like how I think I should feel."

His eyes are locked with hers, sending a tingle up her spine and a fluttering in her stomach. He laughs once at absolutely nothing at all. "Look, Lex, I've been let down before. I've had bad luck. I've messed things up. I hope you won't let me down, and I sure as hell don't want to let you down." He strokes her hair, fingers gentle and warm. "So this has me thinking, and I'm pretty sure it means-" He tenses, hitting a roadblock in his speech. Willing his mind to work over the nerves and aversion, he makes himself go on. The words somehow manage to come out smoothly, clearly. "This is true. This is real. I'm falling for you, Lexie Grey."

There's silence in the moment after. His confession hits her like a brick and she stares at him, dumbfounded. It's like somebody just took her knees out from under her. Her heart is beating so fast it feels like it might fly out of her chest, and she's absolutely sure she's scarlet. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, mouth numbed by nonexistent Novocain.

He's smiling like she's never seen before – teeth fully exposed, brightening his amazing eyes, creasing at their corners. The smile is beautiful, heart-stopping even. He's laughing, too. It's a laugh of complete exhilaration and relief, but also of nervous impatience for her response. She knows now. And she also knows what has to come next.

She grins up at him, the night's first tear finally slipping down her cheek. Not one of sadness, not of futility. One of liberation and happiness. Her mind racing, she can only think of one thing to say. She's whispered it a few times in the darkness, especially in Meredith's attic, where nobody else can hear. She swallows, a hybrid of a sniff and a giggle escaping her lips, and looks up at him. She speaks, evenly.

"I've already fallen."

He brushes the tear from her delicate cheekbone with his thumb. For a few moments, they stand there, smiling goofily and laughing together in a shared feeling of weightlessness and elation.

And then he kisses her and she kisses him; desperate, happy, _true_. Gasping, she reaches to cup both of his cheeks in her hands, mindful of his wounds. He pulls her into him quickly, sighing her name as she opens her mouth against his. Their lips meet again and again, sweet and rough at the same time. Suddenly, the passion escalates as the realization hits them.

They're free. Free from all the secrecy, from all of the fear and hiding. They're finally free to let the thing between them maybe grow into something much more.

During the past days, they've been tried, and tried hard. But they're still standing. They survived it all.

And they will survive.

They're not finished just yet. They can't know what tomorrow will be like, whether good or bad, mild or harsh, happy or heartbreaking. But, the truth remains: there will _be_ a tomorrow. Tomorrow will exist. Tomorrow will come for them, no matter what. Another day would follow, and then another, and another. There's no end in sight yet.

And in this moment, as they hold each other, kiss each other, breathe each other, _feel_ each other, they know that there is a future for them. A future that's worth fighting for. A future that's worth anything.  
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**Once again, a hugs thank you to all of the supporters. One final note: I've uploaded a playlist of songs that inspired this fic. If anyone is interested in listening/downloading, say so in your review and I'll send you the link.**


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